Young Blood
by Mooguri Klaine
Summary: An untimely awakening sends the Prince of the Night to a disheveled era unbeknownst to him, and his pursuit of a past hurls him in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death…
1. Awakening

**Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine**

**Author's Notes:** I know, there are plenty AU YGO fics around this place, but I'd like to give it a shot. Especially the genre of drumroll vampires! XD So do excuse my rantings; I haven't gotten enough sleep to recover my sanity, thus, I am in a state of disaster. Pardon me if you come across grammar errors, typos, and some more technical stuff. And while I'm still ranting, I might as well plug my other two fanfictions (still under YGO), **Merry-Go-Round** and **The Unfaithful**. Read them and tell me what you think of it! I need your reactions to keep me alive moans like a zombie ;; 

**Disclaimer:** Yu-Gi-Oh... is not my property, and I feel pissed off knowing that I can't EVER own it. sobs Life sucks. XP 

**Warning/Reminders:** Alert! Alert! This is a yaoi (boy to boy) fanfiction. This also happens to be an AU (Alternative Universe) story, so you don't need to get yourselves hyped up when you see elements that are not in the series or the manga. This is practically different; it's the characters that are the same. :D 

**Summary:** A prince. A lover. A past. A thirst for blood. Enter a new alternate reality where the fearsome Prince of the Night walks, and begins a search for the man he had left behind after a long slumber, and in turn, hurls himself in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion and death. Will all events lead him to his lost romance? Read and Review! XD 

**>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>**

**Chapter One: Awakening**

"How long was I asleep?" 

"Too long, Your Majesty." 

"I am thirsty. Bring me something to drink." 

"As you wish." 

A couple of minutes passed, then a hooded young man, flanked by a couple of men, entered the large chamber, tugging along a woman. 

"Bring her to me," came the ominous voice. 

The blond woman was immediately carried, and was settled gently before the gaze of a crimson-eyed youth. The man regarded the morsel with a hint of disappointment and dislike. 

"After three thousand years of sleep, this is what I get, a wispy meal?" he scoffed. 

"We seek your forgiveness, my liege," bowed the hooded man. "We shall provide better ones next time." 

The boy remained silent. "This should better be the last time, do you understand, Shada?" 

"Yes, Your Highness." 

The woman sat in her place, too scared to utter a word. She saw the looming figure of a pale young boy with eyes as red as wine. The boy leaned closer to her, and lightly touched her cheek. The girl could not help but shiver; the youth's hands are like ice. 

"Hush, little lady," a soft voice issued from the lips of the boy. The woman shuddered when she saw a pair of fangs glistening in the man's mouth. Before the blond woman could even shriek, another hand closed on her throat, choking her. 

There was a brief sequence of whimpers and muffled screams before it had finally subsided. The boy stood up, his cheeks pert with a bit of color. He licked his bloodied lips indulgently. He scanned the room, as if searching for someone. 

"Where is Sekheth?" [1] 

>>>>>>>> 

"Close the curtains, dammit. Can't you see I'm sleeping?" 

"Nope, not a chance, big brother." 

Seto Kaiba's eyes fluttered open once more and moaned. The sun, now present in his once-dark room, was stinging his eyes. "Mokuba, I hate the sun. So do me a favor and close the curtains." 

Mokuba sighed. "Fine, but you're going to work today," he said. He walked up to the windows and pulled the curtains together, closing them. 

Seto groggily got up to a sitting position and yawned. He rubbed his eyes for a while. Then he pouted and settled his gaze at his younger sibling. "And you," his pointer finger at Mokuba, "are going to school." 

"You must be a vampire, big brother," said Mokuba, ignoring Seto's remark. "You don't like the sun." 

"Vampires," said Seto with a snort. "Are you still reading that junk of a novel?" 

"Hey! Isis' books are really good," came Mokuba's defense. "Especially the supernatural. I swear she - " 

"Alright, Mokuba, I get it," Seto rolled his eyes, as he interrupted his younger brother's praises about the said author, before it could even go on. He had heard that for more than enough. "She's a fiction writer, and you want to marry her." 

"I do _not want_ to marry her! Wherever did you get the idea?" 

"It sounded like you've known her all your life. I bet you even know what her favorite drink is," Seto remarked with a smirk. His younger brother is an avid fan of the said writer. Every single book the author had ever written, Mokuba gets to have it before anyone else does. Of course, it was relatively easy, given that his older brother has all the strings he could pull. And Mokuba has his own stash of cash kept especially for it. 

"She likes tea," Mokuba supplied simply. "A strong pot of tea mixed with menthol leaves to calm her system..." 

Seto sighed as he got off the bed. "Great, Mokuba. Now if only you have that same liking to your schoolwork, I wouldn't be even complaining about that Isis fixation you got there." He raised an eyebrow at him. "Your grades don't seem to be getting any better." _Time to be a proper brother for my sibling,_ Seto thought wistfully. 

"But school is boring!" whined Mokuba, simply stating what was for him, a fact that every single student shared. "And besides, it's a Saturday, so I still have Sunday for homework." 

Seto turned to his brother and saw Isis' book tucked innocently in Mokuba's arm. "Fine, have it your way," he said. "But your homework should be finished by tonight." 

"But - " 

"No buts," Seto warned. "Finish your school projects and study before you hit those books." He approached Mokuba and ruffled his brother's black hair. "Make your older brother happy." 

Several uneventful minutes later, Seto stepped out of the door and hastily covered his eyes with a brown envelope. He searched his pockets for his sunglasses and flicked them on hurriedly as his limousine pulled over in front of him. 

_I hate the sun, I just don't know why,_ he said to himself as he clambered inside the car. 

"Any stopovers, Sir Kaiba?" 

"No, drive straight to my building." 

>>>>>>>> 

"Where is Sekheth?" 

Uncomfortable silence. 

"Where is Sekheth?" the young man asked again, louder this time. 

Still no reply. The spectators merely stood limply at their posts, fidgeting, uncertain of what to do. This show of action infuriated the proud youth. 

His right hand lifted upwards, and in turn, a soldier was brought up in the air lazily like a rag doll, and was tossed to a nearby brick wall with an irritated flick of a hand. The force of the impact was great; the strong brick wall crumbled in some places like a sodden cookie in the hands of an eager child. There was a dull thump as the soldier fell to the ground in a disheveled heap. Others watched in stunned silence, all not daring to speak or even move. 

"I do not wish to waste my time nor my power throwing around worthless pawns," he said dangerously, eyeing everyone with a withering look. "Ishizu!" he called imperiously. 

Slow, mournful footsteps followed suit. "You called, Prince Atem?" 

"Perhaps it is you I should have asked in the first place," Atem said. "Tell me where is Sekheth." He paused. "I see that everyone is still alive and well, but I see no sign of him. Where is he?" 

Ishizu looked at Atem, sapphire eyes ageless and full of wisdom staring at the regal and fiery hues of the latter. Then, slowly, Ishizu unmistakably heaved a long, pronounced sigh. 

"We regret to tell you, Your Majesty," she clutched her cloak tightly, her mouth barely moving, almost afraid of what to say next. 

"Sekheth is gone." 

>>>>>>>> 

"I'm going to buy Isis' newest book!" 

Seto sighed as he heard an employee telling this piece of information spiritedly at someone just outside his office. _Great, more Mokuba-like fans,_ thought the blue-eyed corporate. It was the last day of the month, and naturally it meant great news for all workers alike: it's payday. Every laborer would be receiving another periodic bout of financial sustenance for their families and loved ones. The whole office was now buzzing with activity as employees happily discussed where their earnings would go and at the same time, impatiently waiting for their shift to end. 

As always, Seto sat on his expensive leather chair, drumming his fingers nonchalantly against the desk. His work was done for the day, and he was simply whiling away the time. The sun was almost gone from the horizon, and some early stars twinkled innocently against the vermilion and blue-black sky. 

He can still hear the continual chatter from the other side of the door. "Exactly what do they see in those novels?" he asked aloud. He knew about Isis, of course. Non-readers like him know her as well, as her name was a groundbreaking phenomenon, even becoming increasingly popular as the media sensationalized it. And people like Mokuba get attracted to it like bees to honey. He gazed outside the clear Plexiglas window again, and saw the sun only a daub of red in the sky. The moon had finally walked in to claim the stage. 

Night had finally settled in. 

This made Seto felt good. Seto found the night more welcoming and normal to him, unlike what most people feel towards it. Perhaps it was his element, as a dolphin would be to the sea. It was during the night that he is at his optimum, where he can think easily, where his performance was at the highest. He never really liked the sun very much ever since he was young; it was too bright for comfort. Whereas the moon was enticing and beautiful, showing many phases as it morphed and assumed a new shape at one point in time. And just as the night, it was just as mysterious and solemn, silent and listening. 

A bell rang somewhere far down the building. There was a collective cry of happiness as his workers trudged down the path to a night of drinks, fun, and shopping spree. 

And a copy of Isis' latest novel. 

>>>>>>>> 

"What do you mean, he is gone?" 

"My Prince, Sekheth is...no more," came Ishizu's silent reply, as she continued to bow down in reverence, her knees on the lavish marble floor. "He has passed away, gone from this realm." 

Atem approached Ishizu and seized the collars of her cloak, bringing their faces inches closer. Atem's carmine eyes surveyed Ishizu's deep marine ones, searching for lies hiding somewhere in the depth of the lady's orbs. Yet he did not find any. 

"I do not lie," Ishizu said impassively. "You know I don't. I cannot lie to you, My Lord." 

Speechless. Atem was speechless. For a whole minute he simply stared at his priestess, waiting for a sudden change in reaction, waiting for her to poke him and tell him it was all a joke, then Sekheth will finally emerge from his hiding place and welcome him. But none of those came. His speechlessness slowly turned to anger. Slow, escalating anger. He saw Ishizu grimaced painfully as his fists tightened mercilessly on the fine material of the cloak. 

There was a sudden gasp from the onlookers as Atem drew height, and with an infuriated cry, hurled the taller priestess away. Another hooded man immediately intervened, and caught the shocked Ishizu before she could collide with the cold hard floor. 

"YOU LIE!" Atem screamed vehemently. A solitary tear broke free from his crimson eyes, yet he took no notice. 

"Atem, get a hold of yourself!" the hooded man cried, cradling in his arms the shaking form of Ishizu. The silent air was now racked with quiet sobs. "Ishizu speaks true! This is no jest!" 

"SILENCE, MAHADO!" the prince's voice boomed and echoed in the still chamber. "I refuse to believe this nonsense!" 

Anger turned to desperation. Atem was now holding onto his desperate and foolish attempt to believe that the man he was looking for was still present. His round eyes scanned the large expanse of the room, searching among the hooded and unidentified figures for a sign of Sekheth. He was breathing madly now, his throat almost searing with pain as breath after breath went in and went out of his system. Sekheth was not among the crowd. Yet he denied it still. 

"SEKHETH!" Atem shouted. "SEKHETH!" His small chest was heaving with apparent effort. "COME OUT, SEKHETH! THIS IS AN ORDER! SEK- " 

A quick but audible slap dashed across the Pharaoh's cheek. This elicited more gasps from the silent watchers. He stumbled to the side a bit, his red eyes registering a stunned expression. 

"Ishizu..." he murmured the priestess' name. Ishizu's face was still shining with tears, crying not out of hurt. Her serene eyes were gazing at Atem, those soulful orbs betraying nothing. This struck the prince greatly. 

Ishizu was crying for him. Could it be pity? 

Desperation finally left him, and all that was ever left was the last thing Atem wanted to feel: fear. He knew Ishizu would never lie to him, her eyes tell it so. Yet he refused it altogether, despite the whole truth screaming right at his own face. His desperation only made matters worse, his false sense of hope dragging him to the abysmal pool of his worst fears. 

"Impossible," he breathed, almost inaudibly. "He is one of us; he can never die, just like us..." 

Ishizu seized Atem's shoulders gently, and pulled him closer to her in a tight embrace. The sovereign did not break away. 

"How...?" Atem asked, more to himself than to Ishizu. His cheek was buried in the soft cool fabric of Ishizu's garments, feeling and hearing her slow, steady breathing. "How?" 

"Ra is cruel to our kind, we who are of the Shadow," Ishizu replied with a soothing and calm voice. "It is our punishment, not to behold the mighty god in all its glory..." 

"Sekheth..." Atem called the name again. He felt Ishizu's embrace tighten. 

"He was killed by Ra." 

>>>>>>>> 

"He was killed by Ra..." 

"Are you quoting her lines again?" 

"Yeah, big bro," Mokuba happily replied. "This is from her latest work, 'Invoke', where the vampire looks for his lost lover, after being asleep for a thousand years." 

"Uh-huh," Seto absently remarked; his attention was on his laptop right now, typing away. He paused, and eyed his younger brother curiously. Mokuba was reading the book avidly as always, gobbling every single word from the acclaimed authoress. Seto was at a loss for words, simply because both of them have entirely different interests, and he was just too busy to have one. Putting more enthusiasm in his voice, he asked, "So did he find her?" so their conversation can go somewhere. 

Mokuba stopped abruptly from his reading and looked at his brother, his face somewhat mildly shocked as Seto actually wanted to know something about the story. "Oh," he started. "I'm not sure; I haven't been to that part yet. He's still looking for him." 

"I see," was all Seto could say; he was back to his laptop. 

_Wait a minute._

"Mokuba!" Seto stood up suddenly, almost knocking the computer off the table. 

"What?" Mokuba innocently asked, a bit surprised at his older brother's sudden and unexpected reaction. 

"He's still looking for him?" Seto asked in a bewildered voice. "HIM?" 

"What about it?" Mokuba scratched his head with a perplexed look etched in his face. He was finding it odd that his brother was much too carried away with the plot more than he is. 

"You didn't tell me that book has homosexual content!" Seto exclaimed, his blue eyes wide with panic. 

"Oh," the younger Kaiba brother frowned a bit, pausing for a while to think. "Yeah, it does have something like that." 

"All her books?" 

"Er...yeah, I think so," Mokuba replied, still confused. "What's wrong with that?" 

"That's it, I'm confiscating your books," Seto said in a voice with a hint of finality in them. "What kind of sick author publishes works that poison readers' minds?" 

"WHAT?! YOU'RE TAKING AWAY MY BOOKS?" 

"Yes," Seto replied simply, snatching the book from Mokuba's little hands. "They will be under my custody until further notice, though I highly doubt you'll get them back." 

"Seto, that sucks!" Mokuba cried indignantly. "You can't grab my books just like that!" 

"I can and I certainly will," Seto answered. Then he frowned. "And watch your language, Mokuba." 

"UNFAIR!" whined the black-haired Kaiba. "You never used to care about my books! And I don't mind your stuff either! Who died and made you the lord of this house, anyway?" 

"That's because you didn't tell me it has some...peculiar values not meant for you," Seto said, folding his arms authoritatively. "And yes, Father died, so that makes me the official 'lord of the house'." 

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Mokuba defended earnestly. "It's not like I'm going to chase boys after I read the whole thing!" 

Seto shuddered inwardly as a sick mental image formed in his mind where Mokuba was hugging another boy. "I can never forgive myself if I see you turn into a gay! What will I tell our parents when I get to heaven?" 

"And what makes you say you'll go to heaven when you die?" 

"Never mind that," Seto said, ignoring the last comment. Heck, he doesn't even believe in whether there's heaven or hell. Investing his belief in some unexplained and dubious concepts such as those are not included in his pragmatic vocabulary. Belief of 'heaven' will not buy him a corporate stock, for god's sake. 

There was silence for a moment, then came his younger brother's reply. "You suck, big brother!" Mokuba yelled as he stuck his tongue at Seto. 

He sighed. Being a big brother is not easy. 

>>>>>>>> 

The last of the servants had finally left the vast floor. Only five souls remained in the room. A small form was at the middle of the chamber, his thin fingers grasping the intricate patterns of the marble floor. There was ragged breathing in the air, sobs reverberating on the four magnificent pillars that silently stood at the corners. 

Tear after tear dropped to the cold ground. Atem was letting his eyes shed tears. It has been three thousand years since he last cried. In fact, it was only this moment he had cried like this, full of anguish, pain, and shock. Shock, yes; he still could not believe the demise of Sekheth. Anguish was an understatement; Atem was so sure he felt more than that. Pain, definitely... To awaken after a long sleep and realize that the one you long for is no more...it was beyond anything. 

So the only rational thing for him to do was to cry. To cry for the hope he had looked forward to for more than a millenium that was now gone, to cry for the unimaginable hurt of his beloved's death, and to cry for Sekheth himself. 

"Your Majesty..." a voice started uncertainly. 

Then, something hit Atem. Something awfully significant. This could change everything. All hope was not lost. Atem has still one card left to play. 

"Karimu," the sovereign called in a mild voice. "I have an unshaking belief that souls weave in and out of the cosmos. They repeatedly renew themselves, and take residence in another form. You believe in this, surely?" 

>>>>>>>> 

It took Seto quite a while to find all Mokuba's prized books. His devilish little brother still managed to hide most of it to some unholy place, and he had to scour the whole room for an hour before he was practically satisfied. Mokuba was not one bit pleased, however. 

Seto carried a fairly large box to his own room with Mokuba bobbing along. 

"Stop following me, Mokuba," Seto said. 

"Those are my books, big brother, give them back." 

"No." 

"Fine!" Mokuba yelled again. "I'm going to buy another set, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" With that, he stalked off, his little feet pounding on the soft, carpeted floor. 

"I have to cut Mokuba's ATM card this time." 

>>>>>>>> 

"Your Highness, where are you going?" 

"You are still weak; you cannot go out just yet!" 

"I know he is out there, perhaps among the living, among those mortals," Atem said, his hopes swelling inside his chest, each passing second, it gets steadily stronger. This newfound hope brought energy coursing through his veins, as he proceeded to stride down the long corridors of the vast mansion. 

"But My Lord, we implore you, you cannot handle such task!" 

Atem whipped around irritably and flashed Karimu a menacing glare. 

"And who are you to doubt what I can and cannot do?" 

"Karimu asks for your mercy," Mahado stepped up at once. "But he raises a point. You cannot venture out in the open. You have woken up in a new era, a new age! You will not find sand nor wild animal nor oases once you step out of this threshold. You will find tall skyscrapers, steel and metal buildings, far from what you have grown into several millennia ago!" 

If Atem was a tad confused about what Mahado had said, he did not voice it aloud nor did he show confusion on his face. His gaze stiffened as he folded his arms in a defiant manner. "New things there might be, but the mortals are still the same." 

"No, my liege, the people are now different!" Ishizu piped in. "They believe in many things, and yet they don't in some aspects. They have a different way of life, a far cry from those brainless mortals we had when you still walked on the sands of Egypt!" 

Mahado then said, " They have advanced greatly over the course of time. Uncanny how they carry on with their lives like so, even surpassing us!" 

"It is suicide to go out unprepared and unguarded, Prince Atem," Shada spoke briefly, yet his voice was pleading. 

Atem clenched his fists, and he let off a snarl, as if warding off his loyal panel of guardians. He had already made a decision. 

"I do not care. I will find him, even if I have to face Ra for it!" Then he murmured a string of words from an ancient tongue. Almost suddenly, Atem disappeared entirely in a blink of an eye. 

The priests stood, stunned and yet expectant at the same time. 

"Ishizu," Mahado broke the silence. "Have you seen this in your visions?" 

"It is written in my book, just as I have foreseen it..." came the silent, murmured reply. "Is it possible Sekheth might have been reading it?" 

And as for Atem, there is no turning back. 

>>**To Be Continued**

**Footnotes:** [1] The name 'Sekheth'...I did not make it all up. I actually saw this in DarkFoxy's fic, Love Against All Reason. I found the name really attractive. So, **DarkFoxy**, wherever you are, I owe you one! bows down in gratitude 

**Author's Notes:** This fanfic is more or less inspired by two Anne Rice's book, The Vampire Armand and The Queen of the Damned. And goodness, thank God for Anne Rice and her yaoi-induced plots! You just got to love her books! Gee, I'm starting to sound like Mokuba in this fic smiles So if you haven't read that or any of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, you might want to check it out! This fanfic was one of those spur-of-the-moment types of stories, wherein I was too insane at that particular time and just began typing away like there was no tomorrow. So do forgive me for errors and stuff...I'm just too sleepy to double-check. Hope you liked it, though. The first chapter was not too showy and extravagant, but as I continue to write the upcoming chapters, it will definitely pick up some pace. So pump me up by giving me a review, or a suggestion, or a thought...anything I can use for this fic is very well appreciated. XD 

I have two more fanfictions under my name, all under Yu-Gi-Oh, entitled, **Merry-Go-Round** and **The Unfaithful**. Do check it out if you have some time! 

More YGO drawings! Yes, I draw, but I'm not that good unlike other kick-ass artists! Visit my DeviantArt page: **http:mooguriklaine.deviantart.com!**

Read and review! Thanks a lot and Rock on!   



	2. Culture Shock

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Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine

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Author's Notes: More sleepless nights! And more Herculean schoolwork to add to my growing pile of to-do list. sighs tiredly When will this all end? Anyhow, I'm thanking you, dear reader, for putting up with my rather deranged state XD… and this story as well!

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Disclaimer: Let us all weep together in silence, to drown ourselves in the harsh reality that we do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. sniffs and brings out a candle Takahashi-sama, you are divine! XD And if you do recognize some plots associated with Anne Rice and her novels, I did not steal it! I just had one of those English classes with our professor drilling us constantly about intellectual property rights, and yes, I know not to mess with such beings. I'm just a person out of thousands of fanfiction writers, and I do not have enough resources to wield such big an income. (I'm just a meandering student ) Suing me will only be a futile attempt. Oh, do excuse my so-called rantings. Sleeplessness induces insanity. Oo

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Warning: Yaoi fanfiction ahead. Stop, if you think this is not for you… Otherwise, by all means, ENJOY! I'll even love you more if you leave me a review! XD

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Summary: A Prince. A lover. A past. A thirst for blood. Enter a new alternate reality where the fearsome Prince of the Night walks, and begins a search for the man he had left behind after a long slumber, and in turn, hurls himself in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death. Will all events lead him to his lost romance? Read and review! XD

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Chapter Two: Culture Shock

Atem appeared a moment not too soon. His foot lightly grazed the ground. He strained his eyes to look through the dark. The place was devoid of light, but somewhere a bit further, he could make out a bit of light. He choked a bit as his nose picked up a foul and dank smell surrounding the unknown vicinity. So he decided to hold his breath and blindly wend his way to the light.

After a few minutes of grasping in the dark, he had finally reached the end, where he stood, facing the light. Yet Atem has yet to grasp with the situation he is now in.

Some time ago, he had left the only persons he knew in this time in a temper of an enraged obelisk and with a hurry of a falcon. Such was his anger and frustration that he did not pause to consider whatever circumstances he might be stumbling upon, nor the consequences of his rash actions. For a while he did not care about everything. He only cared about Sekheth. He only cared about looking for him in an unknown and uncharted territory, wrath of gods be damned. His rage fueled him further, forcing him to take leave under the wing of his priests.

Now the fury was gone. His heart had finally stopped beating wildly in his chest. After the flurry of events that had just transpired, something else had kicked in. Things began to slowly form around Atem, like a painter with his masterful strokes, filling the canvas with detail and a gush of color. Yet it was all too overwhelming. The prince's blood-red eyes raked through unknown pieces around him with an innocence of a child and a shock of a stranger in a foreign land. There was nothing familiar or even similar.

__

"You have woken up in a new era, a new age! You will not find sand nor wild animal nor oases once you step out of this threshold." Mahado's voice called out to him in his mind.

__

What age have I woken up in? True enough, what Mahado said was clear. Everywhere Atem turned, he could not see a long stretch of sand, let alone a grain of it. The very place was silent, no chirruping of crickets nor the hiss of a solitary snake. From where the young sovereign stood, he could not see a single entity other than himself. He gazed upward, to the heavens, and to his dismay, found neither a single star nor the mystical orb of the night. Clouds of gray and black floated eerily in the inky sky. Atem could not recognize anything at all. A soft draft blew around him, disrupting the silence with a feathery rustle. He held on to his frame, hugging himself, trying as he might to keep himself warm. Apparently he had hurriedly left Ishizu and the others with barely anything on, save for his wispy black robes and his golden trinkets and accessories.

Atem can only say this.

"Where am I?"

Seto was back to his job once more, after safely tucking Mokuba's box of books to a place where his younger sibling could not lay a hand on it. He squinted at the flat screen of his laptop, deciphering a bunch of numbers, as his fingers silently flew on the keyboard. Just some distance away from him was a wide flat-screen television, currently on and tuned in at the news channel.

"Meanwhile, multi-national corporate owner Maximillian Pegasus soars to even greater heights, accumulating more property assets over the course of two months, a great achievement for any company in the business," a redhead newscaster barked cheerily to the viewers.

Seto's hands stopped typing, as his blue eyes momentarily left the monitor and instead fixed his gaze on the television.

"And just tonight, Pegasus' Industrial Illusions Company had finally added the Devlin Technologies Incorporated to his growing list of company merges," the news anchor disappeared from view and was replaced by a video footage, her voice over the ensuing scene. Seto readjusted his glasses and saw silver-haired Pegasus shaking hands with the black-haired corporate Duke Devlin, as lights from the cameras flashed onto them, clicking madly away.

"I am happy with the pace my corporation is going," came the languid voice of Pegasus, a serene smile pasted on his face. "The company tie-ups will not just be to my advantage, but to my other business partners as well."

"And despite all efforts purged by the corporate, Industrial Illusions still has a bit more to catch up to match another business giant and tycoon, Kaiba Corporation and its consortium of companies," the anchor woman spoke up again. This time, Seto's picture grazed the screen. "The multi-national corporation still hovers at the top spot in the business competition, an astounding feat for the newcomer president, son of the deceased Gozaburo Kaiba, Seto Kaiba."

Seto snorted at the passing comment, not knowing whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

"When asked of the said businessman, Pegasus says," the redhead reporter started. Pegasus once again dominated the scene, microphones all delegated under his chin as reporters crowded around him.

"Seto Kaiba is doing one hell of a job, so I reach out my kudos to him," he said to the press. "I'll be looking forward for a chance to meet him personally." The newscaster takes center stage again.

"And on other news, action star Tristan Taylor marries…"

Seto tore away from the screen and went back to his laptop. He knows Maximillian Pegasus just as the latter knows him, yet frankly, he hadn't meet the other businessman personally. Not that he didn't want to, but it's just that Seto's platter was still full of business deals and merges to attend to. And he was not too hell-bent for any big propositions coming his way; Kaiba Corporation can still survive rather well without major tie-ups. Plus, Seto was confident that his company could still stay afloat, despite all odds. Yet judging by Pegasus' rather…cryptic message, Seto believes that one day, they will eventually cross each other's path.

But right now, he has work to do.

Atem gazed at the light above him. He had never seen such a thing like such before. It glowed in a color of white, and to Atem, it looked like a miniature moon, though not that splendid nor as extravagant.

"What could this be?" he asked aloud, just for the sake of breaking the unearthly silence. He wasn't expecting for an answer anyway. He looked to both directions and saw identical lights casting eerily on the quiet place. He stared at other things he has seen so far. He noticed a brick wall littered with what seem to be like paper with unrecognizable symbols. Then, his eyes rested on a cylindrical container with other unknown objects jammed inside it. Atem knew not to touch anything at first, until he has sufficient knowledge about it. Maybe, it might have been an unknown monster.

It was then he decided to stop skulking under the "little moon", as he called it, and instead start walking and get a move on somewhere.

Atem drew his robe together and walked slowly and uncertainly, at the same time, alert and on guard. His long sleep did not dull his senses, for they were still as sharp as ever. At the moment, he could not sense any human lurking around somewhere.

Then suddenly, one of those cylindrical containers toppled and fell with a loud clang, definitely surprising the prince. With a sudden shout, he held out his right hand, and from it came a black orb of concentrated energy, hurtling towards the strange object. The energy collided with it, and in turn, burst with an unbelievable surge, the thing practically reduced to bits.

Atem's breathing went ragged; every sound seems like an enemy to him. Squinting his eyes to where the cylinder once stood, he could sense a small presence somewhere near it. He readied himself for the worst.

"Meow."

"What?" Atem started.

"Meow."

Atem merely stood and waited. He knew that sound, of course. And it wasn't a human.

A cat slinked out from the shadows, its wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the prince.

"Bastet," murmured Atem, as he proceeded to kneel down in front of the cat. "The goddess Bastet [1]" The creature eyed him still, and then approached the sovereign.

Atem reached out his hand to pat the cat. It purred indulgently.

"Could you be a blessing from the gods?" Atem asked the cat.

"Meow," it replied.

Atem shook his head. "No, it cannot be," he said as he continue to pat the little animal. "I am cursed being, for I dwell in the Shadow. You cannot be Bastet. The gods hate me, and they will never help me."

The cat looked at him with those round eyes. "Meow," it said again.

And for the second time that night, Atem sensed another presence. This time, it seemed human. A group of five, perhaps. The cat snarled, its fur raising up as it arched up, its claws bared and ready.

"Could it be human?" Atem asked. He paused. He could tell there was a human, all right, but there was something else. An aura not different from his own. He could never be wrong.

There were people just like him.

Then there was a loud, piercing shriek.

Atem felt himself moving, almost gliding to source of the said scream. He rounded around a corner and stopped to look at five individuals, four of them are circling a woman like a pack of hungry wolves.

"I'm starving," said one of them.

"Famished, if you ask me," cried another. He approached the woman almost hurriedly, licking his lips appreciatively.

"No, please…" the helpless woman sobbed. "Please, I beg you…"

All of them laughed mischievously, howling madly with glee.

One of them cracked his knuckles eagerly. "Sorry lady, but a vampire's got to do what a vampire's got to do," he said.

The small group closed in on the woman, who was at the moment whimpering and pleading relentlessly. Atem saw fangs bared out from the supposed leader, a blond youth, as he approached ominously. The sandy-haired man took firm hold on the victim's shoulders.

Others cheered and hooted greatly, the lady's cries almost unheard and unnoticed. Slowly, easily, the pleas and the futile struggle ceased, until there was no more.

The leader pushed the lifeless form away from him. The rest of the group jumped in and cleaned off the rest. Atem watched this silently from a distance, his eyes wide with repressed shock. The sound of slaughter and appalling murder was much too much. Atem felt everything stood stock-still, like a nonchalant audience undeterred yet terrified all the same. He almost cried out in surprise when he felt something brushing past his leg.

"Bastet, no!" he called out to the sleek black cat in a hushed voice as it drifted away from him, and into the group of killers. The animal growled dangerously as it drew near. Atem held his breath. It is no good to barge in at a situation like this, especially at an unknown territory.

"Wait, there's someone out there"

"Finally," Seto yawned, and heaved out a tired yet contented sigh. He lifted his glasses off and laid it down on his desk as he proceeded to rub his eyes. He then saved his work and closed the laptop, standing up as he did so.

"Water," he croaked dryly, reaching out to his personal fridge, pulling it open, and fishing out a cold bottle. The cool, soothing liquid was a welcoming feeling to Seto's exhausted form. In less than an instant, he had emptied the plastic container. A slow breeze drifted lazily in the air, lifting the fine linen curtains as it passed. This caught Seto's attention. He walked to his room's balcony and gazed outward.

"Looks like rain," he murmured. Swirling clouds of gray and black covered the myriad of stars. The moon, which he saw several hours ago, was nowhere to be seen. Seto took a while to pause for a moment. He rarely did something like this; he usually falls asleep immediately after his extra work was done, and worse, even before that. Seldom did he unwind and check out the scenery around him. He never used to look at the plants, the trees, and the roses in his garden. So he decided that it is high time for a little nature appreciation hour. Thus, he decided to laze around his terrace, as he settled his head on the back of a comfy chair.

"I didn't know I had roses in my garden."

"What's that?"

"I said, there's something out there."

Atem did not do a slightest thing to induce movement. He stood, as still as a statue. He wasn't afraid at all, truth be told. But right now, he felt that he is not at an advantage. Prompting a preemptive strike would be highly unlikely, and would be a foolish decision. He decided to wait and weigh his possibilities for the meantime.

If anything, he was afraid for the cat more than himself.

"Meow."

Ringing laughter.

"It's a cat, you dumb ass," one said.

"I swear man, it's not just a cat," came a reply. "I felt something…different."

"Human?"

"I don't think so."

"Vampire?"

"Could be."

Atem strained his ears for any word that is recognizable to his tongue. He couldn't understand a word the strangers were all uttering. He had not just woken up in a new time and age; he was trapped in a world with a totally different language. He gulped silently. More problems.

"Vam…pires…?" he echoed a word he had caught from what the group said, his voice not very far from confusion.

"Well, well, well… What do we have here?"

Atem inwardly gasped as he saw a shadow cast over him. It was the blond leader. True, he may not know what the man was talking about, but it was certain he was in trouble now.

"Jewelry," the man happily said as he lifted his hands to Atem's long earrings.

"Don't touch me!" Atem swatted the intruder's hands away from him. "You dare touch a Pharaoh without proper permission!"

A perplexed look grazed the ruffian features of the blond. "What are you talking about, man?" he asked. "I can't understand you. Are you a foreigner or something?"

Atem again heard a string of nonsensical blather. There was no point in this conversation. He chose not to speak anything. He shot the blond a threatening glare, supposedly meant to ward him off. But apparently, the man took no hint and sneered devilishly at him.

The yellow-haired man reached out his hand once more and touched Atem's neck. "Exotic. This is a foreigner, all right."

Suddenly, the man's foot left the ground as he was lifted without any sign of physical maneuver, and was instantly pushed roughly away, toppling one of the trash bins that littered the place. The other three gasped in surprise and gaped at Atem.

Atem had his right hand outstretched in a menacing stance. "Such insolence!" he cried in a commanding voice. "I will not tolerate such from the likes of you!"

Another member, who was observing the scene from afar, almost fell in utter shock. "Look at his forehead!" he cried, pointing at Atem as he did so. Others turned to look, and beheld an unbelievable sight.

The strange person seemed to be bathed in an aura of interchanging hues of gold, black, and deep violet. It was then they saw the livid crimson, blood-red eyes that shimmered with immense and immeasurable strength, ageless and knowing. Up on his forehead was a glowing symbol of what looked like an eye, glowing iridescently. Streaks of blond, black, red and purple littered the proud youth's face as it caught wind, swaying precariously and ominously at them.

"The Eye of Ra!" Atem heard one exclaimed fearfully. Only now, he understood what the person was saying. The said man knelt down respectfully before the prince.

Atem spoke to the trembling youth, his blazing aura still dancing around him. "You speak of my language?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord," replied the man, head bowed low on the earth. He beckoned the others in a hurried voice. "Bow down to him!" he ordered harshly, reverting to the tongue Atem was not familiar.

"What the hell – "

"Shut up and do as I say!"

All followed suit, except the blond. He stared malevolently at Atem instead.

"Forgive us, forgive us!" screamed the man.

"What is it that you call yourselves?" Atem gazed downward at the heap. "I have not a name for what I call myself. Tell me who you are."

"Vampires, my Lord," was the shuddering reply.

"Vampires," Atem echoed. He allowed himself to gaze at the carcass behind that was the woman they killed moments before. It was a horrible; a bloodied mass that soiled the ground with the thick red liquid, the body smashed so bad it was beyond recognition. Atem found himself feeling appalled at it.

"You thirst for blood as well?" he asked.

The man nodded fervently. "I have felt your presence, and you are same as us," he answered, never leaving his eyes on the ground.

This angered the prince greatly.

"How dare you brand me on the same level as you spineless vermin!" spat Atem. He felt the people before him won't even come close to humans. Atem knew they were something foul. And judging by the state of the lifeless woman, only something despicable and heartless can do such.

They are monsters.

"Leave," Atem whispered, his hands curled in a ball of fist, slightly trembling, knuckles white and forbidding. "Leave and never show yourself to me again!"

The man heard and understood it quickly and refrained himself from asking anything. "Let's get out of here," he called out. They got up to their feet and fled from the scene. The blond man gave him one last long look, and soared away.

Atem breathed, as he felt his anger slowly leaving him. The surge of power he felt silently went back inside him. The stray cat approached the dead body and meowed in a mournful tone.

Vampires. Atem held a pitiful gaze at the body. So that was the name branded to people like him. In his time, no one could even give someone like him a proper term. Beings like Atem are feared and respected at the same time, with more inclination towards the former. Atem dwells in the night, away from the rays of Ra. He stalks the still and empty city in search for blood in the darkness.

Yes, the unquenchable and the inevitable thirst for blood. It was this blood, the only source of nourishment and sustenance for him that drove him to perform such acts. There was nothing he can do about it. To the eyes of all he was a killer, but what can he do to stop his very nature and instinct?

Yet, Atem could not help thinking…

__

The way they claimed her life…Atem sorrowfully sighed. A low murmur of incantations flowed from the prince's mouth, as a black orb enveloped the limp form.

__

But we are the same! So alike! And yet… He shook his head in confusion, the big wave of change that he was so certain to rip him from inside out. He had landed in a very different world, and he was in a state of shock. Culture shock. They were so different.

__

They are monsters.

"Rest in peace," Atem watched the orb slowly decreasing in size, and finally into a solitary speck of dust floating in the night air. The cat beside him finally gave one last cry, as if delivering a final dirge to the heavens.

Then, as if on cue, the sky mourned with the feline, as crystalline drops of water cascaded down to the earth.

A smile played on his lips. The door swung open, admitting him in the magnificent house of the First Brood, the Brethren. But is he not also a part of it? Well, he used to. Perhaps, but he had deserted them a long time ago. Will anyone even recognize him after so long? It did not matter. He was here to pay a visit to an old companion. And he was counting three thousand years of neither direct nor indirect contact. Ra knows how much he missed him.

"Anybody home?"

****

To Be Continued

****

Footnotes: [1] Bastet: Well, in case you don't know about it (which I highly doubt), she is one of the lesser gods of Ancient Egyptian mythology, a cat-goddess to be exact. Atem did came from Ancient Egypt and he still carried all his 'obsolete' beliefs even after his awakening three thousand years later. And with that long a time, old habits die REALLY HARD! XD

****

Author's Notes: Yahoo! Done with chapter two! celebrates But wait, there's still chapter three, and chapter four… AAARRGGH!! tears everything apart (voice inside my head: Don't forget your other stories…) WAAAAH! I'm calling all the gods – whoever is listening, I don't care - to give me strength to go on! kneels down and worships various idols I implore you, give me reviews to spice up my fics looks at reader so he/she can take a hint Eherm… Okay, I won't pretend. I NEED YOUR REVIEWS LIKE A VAMPIRE NEEDS BLOOD TO KEEP HIM ALIVE! Oo They will be my source of life! Pump me up, dear reader! (whoa, that sounds green!)

More talkies! I need a whole deal of suggestions and comments from all of you, especially how my story will go. Believe it or not, I don't have a plot. Honestly. I'm just writing what I feel like writing, so I hope I won't screw up. Life's hard as it is XD So if you have something on your mind, crack it open and never hesitate to tell me about it! A review will always brighten up any cloudy day… a sentence or two will do. No matter how crazy it would be, it's totally fine by me. I won't mind 0 v

I'm getting increasingly repetitive, so I must be getting senile now… and I'm less than twenty! Maybe I should have my brains checked. But anyhow, if you have more time to spare, do take a peek at my other two stories – all under YGO and Seto/Yami – **Merry-Go-Round** and **The Unfaithful**. It's not yet finished though so I apologize for that.

Want to see crazy artworks and drawings? Then my DeviantArt page is most welcome to accommodate you all! I'm still looking for some hostings, so I have to settle with that one for the meantime. It's It's not much; I don't do kick-ass art yet… Give me a few more years to hone my crafts XD

Even more rantings! Just want to thank another author here, **silver dragongurl** for all help – from plot brainstorming, technical and grammatical editing and most especially, moral support! Thanks a lot! There will be no Mooguri Klaine without her tutelage. (She was the one who uploads my stories online) Check out her stuff too… she's a Honda/Jounouchi writer and a yaoi lover by nature!

Thanks for keeping up with me! Still, continue to stick with me like glue! I'll never let you go! XD I'll update soon! blows a kiss

For private stuffs and whatnots, email me and I'll make you happy: 

That's it! I'm beat! I'll go to sleep! XD


	3. The Hesitant Truce

**Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine**

**Author's Notes:** My sincerest thanks to all readers and reviewers! I cannot thank you more than enough! 

I still need your suggestions and ideas. I don't have a single inkling or idea of what will happen. Though I must admit, I am having fun writing this, despite the impending pressures of student life. **_looks at a textbook and promptly throws it away_** Help me! Help me! TT 

There's a lot of YGO AU fics, especially in the realm of vampires and leather-clad men, of guns and steel, and of angst and romance. But what the heck! I feel like writing such grim and morbid alternative universe, so I don't give a damn. XD Enjoy it though...even if I don't have a plot for this yet Oo 

Whee! I got your reviews from the previous chapters and it certainly made me feel elated! XD 

To **silver dragongurl:** well, you're always my first reviewer, no matter what :D No surprises there...XD 

To **Skye Asuki**: Hey, I saw your story, and it was a Seto/Jou fic! Glad you liked mine so far, even if it's Yami/Seto. As for the kick-ass story... **_blushes_ **thanks for finding it that way! I'll try to live up to your expectations **_jumps up and raises both thumbs up_**

To **Elusia:** The third reviewer! I could kiss ya! And I love cookies, so thanks for giving me a bag! Now that you mentioned it...I did shift on my tenses A LOT of times, and I felt really dumb now, I see mistakes all over the place even if they're not...I must be getting paranoid...Oo Help? And as for the unknown character at the end of chapter two...you'll find that out here in this chappie! XD 

To **Minor Arcana:** Hey, I'm beginning to read your story that you told me to look. So, I'll be reviewing anytime soon! Personally, I only have a little know-now about the YGO manga, particularly that of the Egyptian Arc...but I do have an unwavering interest on that wonderful piece of civilization. Ancient Egypt rocks! XD Oh and thanks for reviewing! 

To **Asayaka**: Yes, yes, thanks a lot! I just got to love your constructive criticisms. Of course, I'm not a perfect writer; I'm just an amateur, so I gladly accept your suggestions **_looks at an English grammar book _**

To **Venus:** Awwwww! What you did was very sweet! hugs Venus You especially came bacjk just for it! And for that... **_hugs Venus even tight_**

Did I miss out on anyone? If I did, my apologies...my eyes are giving up on me...I GOTTA SLEEP!!! But I extend to you my thanks as well. Personally, I answer all reviews given if I have enough time for it. Don't worry, I'll allot some just for you! XD 

**Disclaimer:** Short and simple, just the way it should be. Me no own, you no sue. (I got this from another author here! Sorry 'bout that :D) If you see some startling parallels, it's purely coincidental. Humans think alike, after all...in a way... XD 

**Warning:**

Seto/Jou fan: What the hell is this shit?! (A/N: This is the kind of fan who hates Seto/Yami in any way and will do anything to eradicate it. I have yet to meet this kind of person, but let's just pray I don't. They could be a potential flamer... --) 

Mooguri Klaine: What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be here in the first place! **_grabs a broom and sweeps the fan away_**

Yaoi Hater: **_pukes_ **

God, what is this obscene material? Why are there elements of men doing crazy stuff with... MEN! 

Mooguri Klaine: **_brings out a huge cannon and blasts the yaoi hater to smithereens _**

The same goes with you, jerk! 

**_a crowd of Seto/Yami fans huddle closer, all fearful and feeling rather apprehensive towards the deranged writer_**

**_Mooguri Klaine sees the group_**

Mooguri Klaine: **_ yells and beckons them closer _**

Come on, troop in and enjoy! 

**_hides her weapons_**

A/N: I'm a nice person 

**_cough cough _**

and I promise I don't bite! But if you just traipse in this fic to insult me and be a total asshole, then I have to dispatch you. Really. Otherwise, you are entitled to five-star hotel and world-class accommodations and freebies!) 

Summary: A prince. A lover. A past. A thirst for blood. Enter a new alternate reality where the fearsome Prince of the Night walks, and begins a search for the man he had left behind after a long slumber, and in turn, hurls himself in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death. Will all events lead him to his lost romance? Read and Review! 

****

**Chapter Three: Truce**

(A/N: Wait! Whether you're planning to review or not, at least drop your email address at the review section so I could give you a little something I managed to draw... Ok, that's enough intermission...) 

"Haaaa...CHOO!" 

Mokuba snickered. He pushed a steaming mug of hot chocolate to his older brother. 

Seto sniffed. "Stupid, fucking cold," he cursed as he gingerly grabbed a tissue from the dispenser. He blew his nose for what seem like the umpteenth time, and quickly dispatched the used tissue to a nearby wastebasket. 

"Language, big brother," Mokuba stared at him with a disapproving look. "You don't want me to pick something foul from you. Especially swearwords." 

Seto snorted derisively. He just finished another entire box of Kleenex. 

"And it's your fault you fell asleep outside, knowing that it was bound to rain." 

"Shud ub, Bokuba," warned the older brother. Mokuba didn't heed this; his brother's voice was far too hilarious too be intimidating and frightening. Plus, Seto was looking worse for the wear. His oak-brown hair was all tousled up and disheveled, his sharp, pointed nose looked like it belonged to a certain reindeer's, his usually deep blue eyes now limpid and devoid of color. His pale face was some shades lighter still, making him look like sodden clay. And that was just the beginning. 

Mokuba smiled goofily at him. "You look like hell, brother," he observed and gave a very impeccable comment. He lifted the mug to Seto's face, beckoning him to drink it. "But then, I suppose this is what you get for taking my books." 

With a growl of disdain, Seto pulled out the electric thermometer out of his mouth. 38.7 degrees centigrade. Not good. "Bokuba, donbi an idiod," he started. "Yor buks hab noddin ta do wid dis rain." 

"'Can't understand a bit of what you're saying," Mokuba shoved a basket of rolls on Seto's breakfast tray, almost upsetting the cup. "It's a good thing it's a Sunday, so you get a decent day-off. Then you'd better rest!" He gleefully threw a fist in the air, nodding eagerly as he went. "I'll take care of things! Just sit back and enjoy, okay?" And with more energy than intended, he jumped off the bed, and unknowingly sent the hot cup of chocolate spilling on the CEO's pajamas. By the time Seto was cursing the too-warm liquid, Mokuba had finally skated downstairs to prepare lunch...at 8 o'clock in the morning. 

"Fuck," was all Seto could say, looking at the hopeless mess that was starting to spread on his clothes and bedsheets. 

"Fuck?" 

Atem, at this moment, took it upon himself to know more about the age he had woken up into. He realized that if he would be looking for Sekheth, he had to know the language of these mortals at the very least. This was definitely one of the repercussions he'd lovingly encountered after hurriedly leaving his High Priests. But there was no more turning back and Atem knew he had enough conviction to keep him alive, regardless of anything else. 

And so far, he was not having much of a hard time. He learned by listening and watching people as they pass by, who were all oblivious of the Prince eavesdropping on them (he smartly decided to choose another spot where there would be more humans). He could only do this at night, of course; daylight is fatal to him, after all. All he had to do was sit inconspicuously on a bench, and pretend to read a newspaper - the word he had learned not too long ago - and listen to the small catches of conversation drifting past him. It also pays to be a wise character, where common sense and a bit of cunning were the most invaluable tools one could ever have, whatever the period one might fall into. 

But before assimilating the new language, Atem must first assimilate the mortals' style of clothing. And there was a myriad of combinations to choose from. He saw bright-colored garments on some, plain or patterned, and dark and heavy hues on others. And it was not a surprise the sovereign preferred the latter. Yet there was still more options, until he laid his eyes on a particular passerby who was wearing a black, peculiar material, shiny and glossy, hugging the frame of the said mortal. Needless to say, it was wonderful. Atem even had the guts to approach the being and ask him about it. And according to the stranger, it was leather. 

Naturally, to acquire it, he has to have something to barter in exchange for it: money. Which he lacked at that time. It was the cat - who was now his trusted companion - who gave him the idea, when it was nudging one of his countless golden accessories. Why not sell some of his possessions? 

After a few minor mistakes and blunders, Atem made it to a "pawnshop". Again, it was all thanks to Bastet, the cat. The silent feline seemed to lead him to it, acting as if it knew all about the prince's plight. Now Atem was beginning to wonder if the creature was really a blessing from the gods, no matter how unlikely it would have been. According to his assumptions, the "pawnshop" was just like a typical buy-and-sell mat that had once existed in his own time, so things will be pretty much the same. He could barely understand whatever the woman was saying, so he just nodded his head and said "yes". The woman, however, shot him an odd look. "Foreigner?" she asked. "Yes," came the sovereign's reply, that word being uttered most often when people see him. "I am a foreigner" was his uncertain answer. The attendant seemed to be pleased about what he had said, and several awkward moments later, Atem left the place, holding a stash of what looked like to be money. 

And so, several days later, he sat on one of his favorite benches with a newspaper, donned in crisp leather attire (long story how he got it), appearing just as normal as everybody else, though some people seem to eye him rather curiously. He had been collecting the said paper to know more about the humans and the world they occupy, and most specially, to learn more about their words and utterances which he was picking up quite amazingly. 

"Fuck?" he asked again. Now, this word puzzled him. He had been hearing that word countless of times already. That and the word "shit". _Is it some sort of greeting among humans?_

It was now Thursday. Seto's slight fever was nothing but a vague memory, him recovering instantly after less than a day. So when Monday came, he was up and about the house, scolding Mokuba a bit about broken pieces of furniture and appliances, and calling his interior decorator for some "renovations" especially around the kitchen area. 

"Yes, I know about that, you idiot. Do I look like some incompetent businessman?" Now he was venting his spleen on a particular subordinate while seated at the back of his limousine, which was a great way to start his Thursday morning, sarcastically speaking. Beside him was Mokuba, oblivious to his brother's tetchy mood, intently staring at the TV monitor just in front of him. 

"Remind me to fire you when I see your pathetic ass in my office, okay? Good. Have a pleasant day." He hung up the mobile phone instantly, and dropped it irritably beside him. He allowed his eyes to linger for a moment outside the car, where rain continued to pour relentlessly, just as it did for four consecutive days. 

"Don't be too hard on your employees, big brother," his younger brother spoke up, his blue-gray eyes never leaving the television screen. 

"Oh? You would too if they are as useful as an empty inkbottle," he replied, then raised an eyebrow. "And since when did you become interested in my business dealings?" 

"Ever since I realized you actually froze my ATM card," Mokuba said, glaring at Seto surreptitiously. "And I saw some striking parallels among your workers. You're being hard on me too, you know..." 

The older Kaiba smirked. "Yes, Mokuba, I have to instill some level of control lest you be a rebel teenager." 

"Oh, haha, I think you're doing a great job at it," shot the other sarcastically. 

"Mokuba, your school's only a couple of blocks away," Seto started, stealing a glance from his watch as he did so. "So get to the point or I won't consider anything." 

Mokuba sighed; indeed, his older brother doesn't miss a single trick. For the past days he had been intent on putting his brother off-guard, raging from blatant shouting to flashing his infamous puppy-dog eyes. But apparently, the older sibling was a tough nut to crack (though he almost gave in when Mokuba did the puppy-dog eyes routine until the CEO's cellphone rang). 

"Okay," ebony-haired Mokuba turned off the TV and turned to his older brother. "Just...give me back my books...please?" 

"No," Seto refused flatly, mentally rolling his blue eyes at his brother's seeming lack of comprehension, or just sheer stubbornness. "How many times do I have to tell you that?" 

"BIG BROTHER!" 

"Oh, we're here," Seto looked out to the rain-splattered window as he saw the school gates of Domino High. "Now, off you go then!" he clamped a reassuring hand on his younger brother's back and gently shoved him to the door. The driver appeared suddenly with a black umbrella as he opened the door for the young master. 

Mokuba gritted his teeth in frustration as he got off the car. "Fine!" he huffed. "You know what? I hope you meet a real vampire, and when you do, I hope you come to your senses!" With a defiant 'humph', Mokuba slammed the door shut, not waiting nor hearing his brother's nonchalant reply. 

"That won't happen at all." 

Chocolate-brown eyes raked through an interesting painting hanging innocently on the wall, perched right in the middle landing of a grand staircase, creating a junction of separate sets of stairs, one leading to the left and one to the right. He lifted his pale hands on the canvas, feeling every brush stroke, accounting every single color used. He not only admired the painter who did the rather-laborious task of making it- he regarded little of it, actually - but the subject of the work itself. 

It was a young man, barely out of adolescence, yet unmistakably bearing an air of maturity wonderfully captured on the canvas. He wore such elaborate garments, woven in high-quality material - a regal red cape lazily falling on his small yet firm shoulders and splashing down to the cobbled ground, coupled with a tunic just as magnificent as the former, hues alternating between deep gray and lustrous silver, hovering nicely just a little distance above his knees. A simple-looking belt acted as a balance to the illustrious clothing, unconsciously hugging the lithe waist. Strong and nimble-looking legs stood in a stance meant to intimidate and assume authority yet at the same time, the painter's use of soft lines suggested liquidity in movement and posture. Gold armbands complete with astonishing detail clasped on the upper arms and wrists that ended in long, elegant fingers adorned with rings of various gems and stones. 

There was more. 

Even the extravagant clothing couldn't take the attention away from the subject's face. He had the color of skin kissed by the sun, brown and glistening with luscious oil, a proud chin resting on top of a slender, swan-like neck. Even more striking was the vivid colors clashing on the youth's hair: blond streaks standing out behind battling hues of black, red, and violet and the peculiar way it stuck up on the air in a defiant manner, ending in several spikes. A few stray strands hung along with the wind making it look so soft and alive, despite its nature as a painting. 

Yet there was still more. 

Hiding behind the golden fringes was a pair of crimson eyes, like orbs of blood or a crystal goblet filled with red wine, stared unblinkingly, impassive at first, yet appearing expressive and eloquent upon further scrutiny. His eyes seemed seething with unfathomable strength and hidden power, a well of aura never seen before, all waiting for release. Those eyes, though eye-catching in itself, still managed to be framed by formidable lines of kohl, making it look startling and overwhelming to the beholder. A small nub of a nose sat in the middle of the prominent face, its sharp bridge complementing the taut cheeks flushed with apparent color. Soft and shy lips were clamped shut in a tight line, the feel of dominance and superiority palpable yet paradoxically hidden. [1] 

The oak-colored eyes went past every single detail slowly, indulging himself with its splendor. A youthful boy in a commanding pose, magnificent and elaborate, yet at the same time, simple and humble. The former's eyes fluttered downward to the small golden plaque with strange writing, carved carefully and meticulously. His fingers stopped at it, muttering the label's content. 

In today's tongue, it would be crudely translated to "the great house". 

But in the language of the ancient, it was only comprised of one word. 

_Pharaoh._[2] 

"I know you're there, just behind me," came his voice, deep and mocking. He whipped around carelessly. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"No welcoming party, how sad..." continued the voice. "After all the trouble of finding this place." 

"You haven't answered my question." 

"Don't be such an uptight jerk like your sister, Marik. It doesn't suit you," he said coolly as he eyed the apprehensive blond. "And while we're on her, where is she?" 

"You're not supposed to be here. Ishizu made that clear a long time ago," Marik sent the unwanted visitor a sharp glare. 

"Let me think..." the man frowned in mock concentration, staring at the domed ceiling above him. "That was three thousand years ago, give or take a few hundred years, correct?" Then he let out a dry chuckle. "And for that long a time, the contract has long been terminated. I came here for renewal. Happy now?" He crossed his arms and smirked at Marik. 

"The First Brood reserves its right-" 

"Yeah, yeah, quit your sappy talk about wannabe do-gooders like yourselves," cut off the impatient intruder, waving a dismissive hand irritably at the guardian. "Or do I have to break things apart just to see the priests?" He smiled maliciously as a blue-black orb materialized from his hand. Marik snarled in response, assuming a defensive stance, but backed a few paces away. Amber eyes met deep purple ones, both readying themselves for a possible attack. 

Tense silence. 

Then, hasty footsteps echoed through the long hall. Suddenly, there was a collective gasp. 

"Is Mokuba home already?" Seto asked his chauffeur. 

"Yes, Mr. Kaiba." 

"Very well, go straight for the mansion." 

The driver gave a curt nod and promptly closed the door. Seto brushed off stray drops of water that clung onto his suit. Sporadic rains still occurred every now and then, and Domino City is still drenched to this hour. The weather bureau claimed a slight tropical depression hitting the country and would die down eventually by the end of the week. 

Seto picked up a small remote control and switched the TV to life. He lazily scanned the program lineups of various channels. Two hundred and three channels later, Seto couldn't find a SINGLE program that piqued his interest, making him wonder why cable companies earn so much given that there wasn't a "wide variety of options" in the first place, which they so overtly boasted. At least, that was his opinion about it. He would've cancelled his subscription if it weren't for Mokuba and his love for cartoons, or "anime", which his younger brother knowingly supplied. The young corporate stared blankly at a certain channel spouting an unknown language, and that's saying something; Seto knows, speaks, and understands at least seven different major world languages, all fluent and just as impeccable as his mother tongue. 

He looked out to his window and saw, to his dismay, an ensuing traffic along the main road the limousine was currently trudging on. It was rush hour after all. He reached for the intercom. 

"How long will we be on stop?" he called to the driver. 

"I don't know, sir. There seems to be an accident ahead, and the police are rerouting the motorists." 

"Damn," Seto muttered. "Get us out of this traffic. Go for the side roads. I want to be home in time for dinner." 

"Yes, sir." 

Seto cut off the connection and fixed his eyes on the television once again. He decided to go over the two hundred three channels once more. 

"Tristan Taylor files a divorce..." _Huh? I thought he just got married last Saturday?_

"NO TO CORPORATE MONOPOLISTS!" Seto snorted and pressed the controller again. 

A soap opera played on the screen. "You're the only one I love, I really do," a man said. 

"And I...I love you too," said another voice. Seto froze and hastily proceeded to another channel but not fast enough. He just saw the man professing his love to...another man. _Gee._

"Ore wa ta-n! Activate Mahou Ka-do, Majikaru Siruku Hato!" Now this one Seto could recognize, even if it's Japanese. He used to see Mokuba all over the screen watching it avidly. It was a cartoon entitled "Yu-Gi-Oh". [3] He didn't have time for this; he fiddled with the controller again. 

Another channel. "La ciudad es muy bonita y tranquila tambien. Tiene muchos museos y varias monumentos historicas en el centro del pais..." _Bien, pero no me gusta._ [4] 

Another channel. And another. And another. Until Seto's much-coveted attention was finally caught by a certain news program. A picture of a lady occupied at least one-fourth of the screen, located at the upper right. He'd seen that woman before. 

"Calling all fans, old and new alike! After what seem to be like a lifetime of waiting, phenomenal national bestseller writer Isis finally decides to hold her first-ever press conference and book signing at the Domino Book Club, starting this coming Saturday," a newscaster piped in. Seto continued to listen. 

"The revered authoress has not honored any live interviews or major appearances, much to her fans' dismay, over the course of her writing career. And after grueling requests from her readers and publishers, the author finally yielded to their pleas." 

"So grab all your books, as it will only be a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity. The event is open for all, however there will be reservations and invitations dished out for VIPs. This shall be a week-long convention, all to be commenced at night. Security is, rest assured by the authorities, a priority..." 

Seto picked up his phone and flicked it open. Time to manipulate a few connections. 

Ishizu opened her eyes, halting her long search for the runaway prince. Ever since the young Pharaoh left them, Ishizu had kept a silent watch over him. Unlike the humans, beings like them have a rather strong connection surpassing physical limits, thus they can sense each other's presence even from a thousand miles away. 

But it proved to be a very strenuous activity for the otherwise strong woman like the priestess. Tracking the lost sheep was like looking for a stray hair among a sea of grass, especially of late. Somehow, their numbers have increased very significantly over the course of time. Therefore, every single one of them was added to Ishizu's psychic radar, much to her dislike. How was she supposed to find the prince if there were others jamming her "frequency"? (this term helpfully supplied by Karimu) She did feel a surge of power twice four days ago, and she could've sworn it was Atem. This consoled her a bit, yet troubled her as well; why would the Pharaoh use his powers so suddenly? Unless... 

Ishizu shrugged this unnerving thought away. _The Prince is safe; no one can harm him._

_Unless..._ Another sliver of thought crossed her mind. 

"Impossible," she muttered as she rose, and proceeded to extinguish the fading light from the candles. "It couldn't be him...He already left the Brethren a long time ago..." Yet she didn't find any comfort from this assumption at all. After more than a thousand years she still hadn't gotten used to the so-called "truce". It was a nagging thought occurring almost always, a sick paranoia that left her sleepless and worrisome. That man was not to be trusted, after all... 

Then suddenly, without warning, she felt her heart constrict tightly in her chest. She knelt weakly on the ground as she clutched on her hood wearily. She felt it. 

A presence of a vampire. And not just any common vampire. 

Ishizu could've sworn her heart stopped beating. No other vampire apart from the First Brood can enter the premises of the heavily-guarded estate. No, the House was too protected by the ancient sorcery of the High Priests to be easily barged in. Somehow, the woman's worst fears finally ceased to be just mere apprehensions and thoughts. This time it was beginning to be...real... 

And if that wasn't enough, Ishizu heard an earsplitting crash of glass above her, and sensed along with it, a release of the forbidden power of the Shadow. 

Too weak to perform another round of incantations to will herself to teleport, the azure-eyed priestess hurtled out of the inner chamber as fast as she could, her heart thumping hard against her chest, never slowing its ever-quickening pace. 

_Ra, please don't let it be him..._

It was a long way up, and Ishizu had no more time to spare. She hastily passed by long corridors and passages, flew past the myriad of silent paintings on the wall, not daring to pause for even a single second. Every step was hurried, yet it was so frustratingly slow and time-consuming, as if she was not even nearing the great hall at all. It was a long time since she last ran like this. Beads of cold sweat managed to break free, along with silent and frightened tears that welled up grudgingly from her cerulean eyes. 

Then voices. It seemed Mahado and the others have already arrived. 

Then laughter. Slow, maniacal, and mocking laughter. 

Ishizu reached the place at last. Not mindful of her heavy breathing after that long run, she willed her eyes to survey the lavish hall...or what was left of it. 

The crystal chandelier overhead was ripped violently away from the ceiling, and was now fallen to the ground below, shards of it splashed the marble floor like glistening tears. The force of the crash sent the porcelain vases to their doom, scattering the flowers on the floor like a perverse mosaic. Several paintings that hung on the wall fell out of it, their wooden and brass frames tangling forlornly. 

"See what you made me do," drawled a voice. "I have to break an expensive chandelier just to get your attention!" 

Ishizu was already certain of the intruder's identity even before she arrived, yet she could not help but heave a frightened gasp. After the course of three millennia, there was still no mistaking the piercing brown eyes, the malevolent sneer, and the helpless tangle of white hair. 

"Bakura..." 

Bakura stood defiantly over the mess of broken glass and stared at the newcomers, arms folded, and his mouth twisted upward in an evil smile. Behind him was Marik, who sustained a couple of injuries from the crash, and in turn, was hissing curses at him. 

"Oh, Mawik's got a wee bit o' injuwy, poor baby," said Bakura in an impressive cuddly voice. "Why don't you run to your big sistew and let her heal your woundies?" 

"Shut up, you bastard," spat Marik indignantly as he held on to the biggest wound that was on his arm. The blood that trickled forth vanished as the open injury slowly closed, formed into a scab, and finally healed itself completely. Marik glared at Bakura, the scratches on the former's face being nothing but a lingering memory as it was erased from the flawless visage. 

"Impressive healing abilities," came Bakura's remark. "But then, don't we all have that? Vampires do recuperate faster physically than any other creature, after all..." 

Marik stood with newfound strength as he shifted to an apprehensive battle stance. 

"Marik, no!" cried Ishizu to her younger brother. 

"Yes, listen to your sister and her wise words," Bakura began. "Not even a vampire like you can stand the Shadow..." He lifted his forefinger and aimed it at Marik, the Shadow orb floating silently above it. 

Ishizu stepped up, her calm demeanor unnerving Bakura a bit. "Let the priests handle this, Marik," she said solemnly, her silent eyes raking at the lavender ones of her younger sibling. Marik hesitantly followed, and backed down slowly, yet readying himself all the same should there be another assault. The other faithful servants of Atem followed suit. Mahado, Karimu, and Shada closed in on the surprise visitor, and held out their ancient weapons. 

"Interesting," murmured Bakura as he eyed the Shadow Items for the first time after three thousand years. Karimu held the Scale firmly with silent dignity in front of his chest while Shada thumbed the Ankh pendant that hung around his strong neck. Mahado's Shadow Ring glowed, the little trinkets tinkling as each caught the shimmering aura from its holder. Ishizu's hands crept up to her neck and clasped the cloak open, revealing the Necklace of the Fates, the all-knowing Eye of Ra twinkling ominously. 

"I thought we made it clear for you not to show yourself to us for as long Time permits it?" Mahado appeared suddenly beside Bakura and grasped the latter's hand in a crushing grip. Bakura winced slightly in pain, the lethal orb vanishing from his threatening fingers. 

"Mahado, believe me, the feeling is just as mutual," chuckled Bakura mirthlessly. "I did not do all this trouble just to see your butt-ugly face." 

"But I might as well take the opportunity to give you a hug," Mahado cried in surprise as he felt white-haired Bakura buried his head on the former's chest. 

Bakura's eyes glinted maliciously as he placed his palm on the priest's stomach, unleashing an unearthly force that blasted the startled Mahado away from the "embrace" and into a nearby pillar. There was a sickening crash, as smoke and dust flew about in the air. 

"Mahado!" cried the other priests in unison. Ishizu approached quickly, only to be stopped by Shada with a silent and wary shrug. 

"Don't tell me you fell for that, Mahado!" Bakura commented dryly, not leaving his eyes on the clouds of smoke that swirled around them. "Pick yourself up and attack!" he waited impatiently for the Priest of the Ring to stand and fight. 

True enough, the curtain of dust finally subsided, impressively revealing Mahado behind it, a bit shaken, but still appeared to be unscathed. Without further delay, he sent his agile legs with remarkable speed throwing himself at Bakura, as punch after punch came swiftly on his face. The enemy was not to be intimidated easily as he dodged every single strike without as much as a blink of an eye. 

"Come on, Mahado, you can do better than that!" he taunted as he deftly evaded another blow. 

"Don't worry, it gets even better," whispered Mahado, both his hands enveloped with the black aura. He leapt away from Bakura and quickly dispatched the building stream of dark energy from his outstretched palms. 

Ishizu watched the events unfold before her eyes. Her hands rested uneasily on her chest as she witnessed the ensuing battle. She felt sick of worry for her fellow priest. The Shadow is a formidable force to be reckoned with. The damage it can do greatly surpasses physical realms, a far cry from the broken strewn of property scattered around her feet. Fortune smiled on Mahado briefly; he escaped the point-blank attack with nothing but a few scratches and a singed suit. But how much more could his body take should he receive another powerful blow? 

Bakura howled with glee, gliding past the orbs that flew. "After all this time, you are still as incompetent as a novice," he remarked, his back facing Mahado. Then he heard the sound of ripping fabric, as his shirt fell away from his body. "Great, you destroyed my clothes. Congratulations." 

Mahado sent him a chilling stare, the glint in his blue-green eyes dangerous and forbidding. 

"Don't even think that your looks-could-kill slogan can scare the living daylights out of me," Bakura sarcastically said. "Oh, I forgot, we're vampires. We're not supposed to be out in the sun. Haha." He turned around to look at the priest and to his surprise, saw him just inches away from his face. 

"Dodge this," smirked Mahado, as he planted his left hand firmly on Bakura's shoulder and formed another black orb with his right hand. Bakura readied himself for the worst but no attack came. Instead, he saw the other man's hand directed the blow... 

...to where the painting of the Pharaoh stood... 

**To Be Continued **

**Footnotes: **[1] **_sweatdrops _**

That was one long description. Oo I don't know if the image appeared clearly to you as I hoped **_ scratches head _**

Nevertheless, it was fun writing it 

[2] Yes, the word 'Pharaoh' meant "the great house" in the Ancient Egyptian language. You won't believe that I got this piece of information from a CHILDREN'S BOOK (particularly my six-year old nephew's). Whoa, today's generation of kids continue to amaze me. Time will come second graders get to study calculus Oo **_shudders _**

[3] 'Ore wa ta-n! Activate Mahou Ka-do, Majikaru Siruku Hato!' would be crudely translated to: 'It's my turn! Activate Magic Card, Magical Silk Hats!' Hehe, I just can't resist the idea of putting the Yu-Gi-Oh series in this fic, along with Tristan's cameo appearance as an action star. XD 

[4] 'La ciudad es muy bonita y tranquila tambien. Tiene muchas museos y varias monumentos historicas en el centro del pais...' This time, it's Spanish. 'The city is very beautiful and peaceful as well. It has many museums and various historical monuments.' As for Seto's reply, 'Bien, pero no me gusta.' It meant, 'Good, but I don't like it.' Wahahaha! I get to practice my rudimentary Spanish on you as well! XD 

**Author's Notes: **Another chapter done! And still more to come! To all the readers who all took their time reading and reviewing, I thank you with the bottom of my heart! **_kisses reader_**

Let me ask you all again for a fresh round of suggestions and comments, because I badly need them. I don't have a plot and I don't want to let the concept die away, so please, please, and PLEASE extend your expertise to a lonesome writer such as myself! TT All ideas are welcome! 

**Another thing: **If you plan to review, kindly add your email adds so I can send you a token my of gratitude, a personal attempt to draw Yami. Most people find it okay, so I might as well share it to you YGO enthusiasts! It won't do any major harm...don't worry **_smiles _WRITE YOUR EMAIL ADDIES!**

Check out more of my attempts to write a YGO fanfiction! And it's all under Seto/Yami... **Merry-Go-Round**, a twisted humor story about raging hormones and an unlikely detour to an amusement park **_winks _The Unfaithful**, where betrayal plays a key role among three persons (guess who they are!). 

More to come! I asked permission from another revered authoress here, **Lomelindi**, about some stuff and I'm currently working on another story, which is set in Ancient Egypt. I don't know why; I just wanted to write simultaneous fics all at once, so I get to see how deranged I'll become after everything is said and done! XD 

Artworks and trash galore! Visit my DeviantArt page, and see my frustrated artist side! XD 

http colon slash slash www dot mooguriklaine dot deviantart dot com 

This is ridiculous...I can't type the whole URL! It won't even appear...well, just follow what's above. I _do_ hope you underdstood it. Oo 

Okay, okay, enough talk! I got a Japanese exam coming up and it will be one nasty ordeal. Gods help me live through this! Kami-sama, TASUKETE!! ,,, 

Thanks a lot and Rock on!


	4. Irony and Lies

Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine

Author's Notes: AAUUGHHH! What's happening to me?! I should've finished this chapter a long time ago, but a bad case of writer's block managed to make its existence known to me. And those days of blankly staring at the computer monitor were the darkest of my times. Tsk. But nevertheless, I AM BACK! And to all people who waited for it, my deepest gratitude extends to you and your patience! Hopefully I won't be getting crazy memory lapses…_hopefully_ sweatdrops

And just so you know, I update once every week (theoretically), regardless if I get a review or not. But if there are a lot of you clamoring for faster updates, then review, review and REVIEW! XD Still no plot. I'm running out of ideas… SOMEBODY HELP! I hope you managed to receive that Yami drawing I was talking about from the previous chapter. I'm working on another one. Care to suggest which character I should draw this time? grabs a list of Yu-Gi-Oh characters and looks at it Vampire YGO, anyone? :D

Whatever happened to these days?! Why won't the asterisks appear on this fic?! My apologies about the previous chapter; it was a mess, and silver dragongurl did have a hard time uploading that. So I had to substitute the asterisks for "" T-T

YAY! I got your reviews! beams at everyone Arigatou gozaimashita!

To **silver dragongurl**: Yeah, those were lovely channels ,

To **Elusia**: A, ¡Es que bien! ¿Hablas espanol, verdad? Hehe, Spanish is such a fun language! And 'gracias' for finding my fic 'Muy Bien'!

To **swtdream07's**: Hey, a new reviewer! You're one keen reader thumbs up sign and all your guesses are not for nothing, because they certainly mean a lot! Eherm…you're almost a hundred percent correct and I'm proud you got the drift of the story! I read your story too and I say…do continue! XP Thanks again!

To **Picaro**: Another new reviewer! Hihi…vampires are indeed interesting, and getting hooked on them is just normal smiles Thanks for the review! And update your story!

To **Minor Arcana**: Waaa! I can't seem to find your email address! Do tell me so I can send you what I promised to reviewers like yourself! By the way, good job on the Kaiba's Delivery Service! It surely woke me up when I was surfing the net on a particularly boring night :D And let me not extend my praises to your other fic, The Reeds, The Lotus, and The High Priest!****

**Disclaimer and Warning:** I'm running out of creative disclaimers. Why oh WHY do I have to write a different set of disclaimers and warnings EVERY chapter when I could just copy and paste it instead? Very few people read this introductory ramblings… sweatdrops

Yami Yugi walks in, and is closely followed by Seto

Yami: Klaine sucks. shrugs head as he clasps the belt on his neckS

eto: Yes, and just when we're getting to the good part… grumbles incorrigibly

Yami: Yu-Gi-Oh is a licensed trademark owned by Kazuki Takahashi, along with other major tie-ups, from TV Tokyo, Konami Corporation, Warner Brothers…

Seto: grabs Yami and glares at readers You get the idea. We don't need to repeat ourselves.

Yami: nods head All other names, places, and events included are purely coincidental.

Seto: Like I said, Yami, THEY get the idea. leans forward to kiss Yami

Yami: Yaoi material included. What we are about to do –

Seto: covers Yami's mouth -- is none of your business. So butt out – OW!

Yami: bites Seto's hand So if you don't like that, or if you don't like us at all, continue no more.

Seto: THAT'S IT! WE'RE OUT OF HERE! grabs Yami and runs for the door

Summary: An untimely awakening sends the Prince of the Night to a disheveled era unbeknownst to him, and his pursuit of a past hurls him in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death… Review and you automatically receive a prize

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Chapter Four: Lies

(A/N: Again, if you're a new reviewer, might I ask you to drop your email address at the Reviews Section so I can send you a token of my love for reading and reviewing this fic grins I guess that's settled. Happy reading! ,)

"Dodge this."

Bakura hid his alarm at the priest's sudden and abrupt maneuver. The grip was too firm and strong to move away from it. The blue-black orb materialized from Mahado's free hand.

Too late. There was no room to block or evade the incoming assault. And with only seconds to spare, there couldn't be any way to pull off a counterattack. Thus, Bakura waited for the blow to fall on him, willing his body to take desperate defense as his most possible course of action.

But none came.

Mahado held the orb tightly with his palm and calmly directed it elsewhere, away from Bakura.

"NOOOO!!"

Karimu and the others lifted their arms to their eyes to block off the new stream of smoke, dust, and rubble that went past them. A resounding boom bounced off of what was left of the walls of the once-splendid mansion.

Ishizu tore away from Shada's grip and ran to the swirling mist.

"Mahado!" called the tear-stricken priestess, her voice quivered with mounting anxiety. She groped around the dusty clouds, gingerly waving the fog away, but to no avail. Suddenly, she felt a reassuring arm wrap around her, pulling her close.

"I am safe," murmured the priest. Ishizu tightened her embrace as she sighed and let tears of relief streak down her cheeks.

Mahado scanned the room warily for any sign of the white-haired vampire. The still room continued its unnaturally stagnant pace until the smoke slowly dissipated and was finally gone. He heard Ishizu drew breath as she gasped sharply.

Bakura had his arms thrown and crossed in front of his face in defense, his muscled form breathing heavily in quick gaps. Smoke rose up from the once-pale arms, which now had the color of stinging red.

"What the hell is your problem?!" cried Karimu tersely at Mahado. "That was my painting!"

Mahado smirked. Indeed, Bakura deflected the attack that was meant for the painting. Just as he expected to happen.

Bakura had to admit, the force was very powerful indeed; he hissed slightly at the stinging pain that lingered around his arms.

"Strange," Mahado started. "I was so certain the blast was for the painting…"

"I've always known that you don't appreciate good art," quipped Bakura as he gingerly placed his hands on his waist. He took a quick glance at the Pharaoh's painting, and saw it still intact, much to his relief. "Not my fault if you suck at art appreciation."

"After all this time, Bakura, **_he's_** still on your mind…" Mahado ignored Bakura's remark, the knowing smirk all too obvious for comfort. He silently approached the visitor, stopping briefly at a close distance, to a point where their shoulders almost touched. Mahado leaned forward, and uttered something only albino-haired Bakura can hear.

"And after all these years, you still feel bitter of his rejection, perhaps?" he whispered.

Blood gushed angrily to Bakura's veins, as his hazel eyes narrowed dangerously. He clenched his fists and landed a crushing blow on Mahado's face. The priest landed some several feet away, toppling some pieces of antique furniture as he flew against them. Yet he still appeared to be the least bit hurt, standing up simply while brushing away the dust from his garments. The peculiar smile never left the priest's handsome face, growing increasingly smug and triumphant.

"Watch it, priest," Bakura growled in a dangerous voice.

Yet Mahado's smirk widened, and turned into a taunting sneer, amusement in his blue-green eyes. "I think I hit a sore spot, didn't I, eh, thief?"

"WHY YOU FUCKING –"

"STOP!"

This time, Ishizu could not bear to watch anymore. She bolted right in the middle of both men, her thin arms thrown wide. "Enough of this!"

The other priests along with Marik advanced the tense crowd, all brandishing their weapons. Marik held out the sharp point of the Shadow Rod right at Bakura's throat, its tip gently prodding the thief's flesh.

"No more hostile acts," Shada stared sharply at Bakura.

"One more strike and I swear this mansion will fall apart in no time," Karimu looked at the cumulative property damage apprehensively, as if expecting the ceiling to fall down on them.

Bakura looked at them one by one, and with a dismissive shrug, he raised his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. "Okay, enough fucking around. Or do I have to wave a white flag too just to make you happy?" He did not wait for further answers. He went straight to the point.

"Where's Atem?"

"Bigbrotherbigbrotherbigbrotherbigbrotherbigbrother!!!"

Seto was just about to close the main door when he was greeted by a blur of bushy black hair that was bobbing up and down like some hyperactive spring.

"Isis'sgoingtohaveanautograpgsigningsessionthisSaturdayandI'llkillanyonejusttobethere!" Mokuba tugged on his brother's trench coat, not even pausing to breathe from too-much excitement. "CanIcanIcanIcanIcanI?"

Seto raised one eyebrow. "Oh. Really?"

"Yeahyeahyeah!" Mokuba eagerly replied. "Oh please please please please PLEASE let me go there, big brother!"

Seto slowly removed his overcoat and hung it on a coat hanger near him. He walked a few paces forward, with Mokuba hot on his heels.

"OH COME ON SETO!" whined the young adolescent. "You can deny me my books all you want but there's NO WAY IN HELL you can't let me come and attend the convention!"

Silence from the older brother.

"At least let me show up for just one night! Heck, I'll even pay for the ticket…JUST LET ME ATTEND!" Mokuba was starting to feel like an idiot, like he was talking to a solid wall but he decided to ignore it and continued on.

"…" Now, Seto was walking up the stairs. Mokuba mentally screamed in exasperation. His brother was not taking any notice! _Do I have to dance just to get his attention?_ But Mokuba was not to be deterred that easily. He was flat-out desperate. And desperate causes call for desperate measures.

"If you're thinking about the security of the venue, there's not a thing to worry about!" Mokuba started, trying as much as to guess what his brother was thinking at the moment. "The Domino Police Force will be guarding the whole place!"

"Going to this event," his brother started. "Is this absolutely necessary?"

"Yes, yes, and yes! It's a matter of life and death!"

"Then what about your homework?"

"I'll work extra hard! I'll study for my classes! I'll even do a formal thesis report about pancreatic juices!"

"You would?"

"Okay, not the thesis part 'cuz I can't do that yet, but I'll study like hell!" Mokuba cried.

"You promise?"

"I promise." The younger Kaiba raised his right hand firmly, as if swearing an oath. "Cross my heart and hope to die!"

Seto considered for a moment. "…No."

"WHAT?!"

"You can't go there."

"WHY?"

"It's too dangerous."

"HUH?!" Mokuba thumped his foot on the carpeted floor in sheer frustration. "SETO, YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Countless of times, Mokuba thought his brother was losing his marbles. This time, it was certain; his brother was_ indeed_ insane. That or Seto wanted to make his life as miserable as possible. Who in their right minds wouldn't allow an Isis fan to her first-ever book signing? It was like denying a Muslim his or her right to venture forth to a pilgrimage to Mecca.

Yet Mokuba wasn't about to give up. He _will_ attend that event, come hell or high water and by all possible means, be it legal or illegal.

"BIG BROTHER! I BEG YOUUUU—" Now he threw himself on Seto's shiny signature shoes in a strange position, hovering somewhere around kneeling, lying, and sitting. (A/N: Whoa, is that position even possible? O-o) "LET ME COME! LET MEEEE!"

"No," came the monotonous tone of reply. "And get off of my shoes, Mokuba."

Okay Mokuba, breathe, thought the young sibling, still clutching Seto's leg as if holding on to dear life. He was _dangerously_ on the verge of grabbing a knife from the kitchen and hurling it to the insensitive elder. He was so serious about attending that he was _actually_ considering his mind's wild suggestion._ Breathe…breathe… _he rasped in his thoughts._ 1…2…3… The grass is green, the sky is blue, and my brother's not a jerk… Breathe…breathe…_

"Give me one good reason why I can't go," he hissed through his gritted teeth. "Because I FIRMLY and STRONGLY believe I have every right to go there!"

"Yes, you have every right to go there," Seto started, as he fished out an important-looking envelope out of his breast pocket.

"But you're not going alone."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Ishizu, I don't have time for hide-and-seek," he said. "I've already spent a lot of my Ka in that fight a while ago, and frankly, I don't want to drain what's left of it."

Ishizu blinked at him. "And you understand, Bakura, that I harbor the same feelings. I am not in any position to lie about His Majesty's whereabouts."

"So where is he?" Bakura demanded.

"When was the last time you had your ears checked, or your brains for that matter?" cried Karimu in exasperation. "Atem. Is. Not. Here. Or do I have to spell it out for you in case your brain can't process it just yet?"

"Oh haha, Karimu, really witty," Bakura rolled his brown eyes. "So it's time for jokes now?" Karimu scowled at him, looking as if he wanted to stick his tongue at the visitor had the circumstances would be slightly cheery than this.

"No jokes, Bakura. We are serious," Shada murmured in reply.

"His awakening…was this planned?" Bakura asked, casting his slanting amber eyes on Ishizu. Mahado shifted uncomfortably a little in his place, flinging a protective arm around the priestess, making the thief snort derisively. "No worries, Mahado; I won't touch your woman."

Ishizu ignored the glaring contest among the two rivals and quietly shook her head. "We do not know what caused his awakening, but he walks among the mortals now."

"You should know this already, Bakura," Mahado spoke fiercely in a tone of accusation. "Only the First Brood have the sufficient power to awaken the Prince."

"Well, I am not a part of your so-called 'First Brood', so rule me out." Bakura guffawed. "Don't even think of putting me on the same level as you half-bloods. If it weren't for Atem turning you to –"

"All the more reason we should suspect you for waking him up," Mahado interrupted. "You are, after all, are considered one of the Roots, just like our Pharaoh…"

"Why Mahado, so nice of you to call me such a name," the white-haired man tried his best to act flattered and flushed. "And to think it came from a half-breed vampire like you…"

"Mahado, Bakura, I think we are all fully aware of our hierarchies." Ishizu gave each of the two a piercing look. Thankfully, both fell silent at once. "There is no need to repeat yourselves."

Bakura looked away from them and moved a few steps back. He closed his eyes slowly while murmuring a string of ancient words, bringing in a silent aura lingering around on his body for a couple of minutes.

"Dammit," he cursed, moments later, as he kicked a plank of wood irritably. "Too many vampires clogging the airwaves; I can't locate him."

Karimu let out a hollow chuckle. "And don't say we didn't try that, and we're not just as lucky."

"You half-bloods are just as dim-witted as I thought you would be," snapped Bakura at them. "You just bit off practically anyone that stumbled on your path, no wonder the numbers of half-wits like you increased drastically! What the hell are you playing at?!"

"It's us who should be asking you that!" cried Karimu indignantly. "The First Brood never turned any human into a vampire ever since!"

"Then, Karimu, I ask you this: do I look like I love half-bloods?" Abandoning sarcasm, Bakura's voice was dripping with sheer and utter dislike that no one would ever miss. "Having five of you was bad enough, let alone a thousand more? Do you think I liked the idea of turning miserable humans into vampires? Geez, no wonder this place is going to the dogs…"

"Then it is clear that both of our sides have no involvement in these strange circumstances whatsoever," Ishizu said with a hint of finality in her usually-gentle voice. A fleeting wave of uneasiness passed her momentarily. Yet she didn't linger on it any further. Bakura "visiting" them was a matter to be dealt upon at once, before it could go any worse. Apparently the thief's name was worth Chaos itself, making the mess around them looked like nothing but a child's mild tantrum.

"So then, why did Atem flee from your over-protective gaze?" For Bakura, there were still a lot of questions to be sorted out and answered.

All too sudden, glares directed at him easily vanished from the priests' eyes. Even Mahado, who was holding an unwavering scowl some moments before, looked hastily away in discomfort. Now _that_ was something.

An uncomfortable silence swept over them. No one dared to speak, nor even move.

It took a moment for things to sink in. Then it hit Bakura. Hard.

And whatever hit him, it didn't please him. Not one bit.

"Nut is still weeping [1]," Atem observed as his eyes flew upward to the heavens, as it continued to rain over the city. For many days the moon and the stars lay hidden from the Pharaoh's eyes, allowing the charcoal clouds reside the celestial stage. Whereas everyone was keen to get out of the storm and into his or her respective homes, the prince paid no mind to the soft splatter of water unto his pallid skin. The drops clinging onto his body felt like a new sensation to his recently-awakened form, a feeling that three thousand years of sleep almost took away. His once-spiky and vivid hair now hung limply on his shoulders; the long, sleek and wet locks carelessly sticking on his neck and back, yet to Atem, he felt no apparent discomfort. He closed his eyes as he allowed the shower to sooth him.

Beside him was the equally-soaked Bastet, curled up in a ball, taking her habitual nap, and was just as unmindful of the soaking weather on her skin. Atem lifted his hand and placed it gently on the feline, and absently stroked the wet fur. The cat purred silkily and peered with clear emerald eyes at the prince.

"Have you no place to go?" Atem asked.

"Meow!"

"You want to stay with me?"

"Meow!"

"I'll take that as a yes, I suppose," he muttered gratefully. He had been in the company of humans for a couple of nights now, studied and spoke their language, and even wore their clothes and apparel, yet it seemed not enough.

He still could not belong. And his very self seemed to be defying what these mortals consider as normal: his spiky hair, his stark-red eyes, his sallow skin, his small stature, his thin and lithe form…

Acceptance. Never - even in his reign as the ruler of Egypt scores of years back - has he experienced such. He was always seen as a strange monstrosity seated on the regal throne of the Nile, a prominent figure built to kill and destroy. Yet he was never ousted from his place. No one had the courage to do so. Because it was the fear of his citizens that drove them to obey the ruler's decrees and laws, appearing civil and cordial before him, but vehement and disliking him when his back is turned on them.

Yet he was good. And he was just. He ruled wisely, and wanted nothing more but the happiness of his people. But no matter how hard he tried to please them, he was still seen as the nameless creature of the Night, the slave of the tyrannical Seth, or the harbinger of Darkness. Nothing more.

"To expect acceptance would be wishful thinking," he said as he shrugged, his sad eyes gazing at Bastet. The cat merely looked at him with those glowing orbs. Then it stood up and crept to his lap, slightly nudging the gold ornament that hung around his neck, the last of the jewelry the young sovereign decided to keep. He held the glinting metal on his palms.

It was wrought in the shape of the legacy of his age, an inverted pyramid embedded with an ominous symbol in bas relief, the eye of the supreme deity, the sun-god Ra. The said eye sat in the middle of the item, looking just as stunning as it was first made. And after all the time that passed, its luster never seemed to have dulled. On the contrary, it shone as bright as ever. Ironic, really, that the symbol of the sun was to be bestowed upon him, a servant of the Night. And what was even more ironic was that the lavish ornament _did not_, in any way, represent the shining power of Ra, but rather, the might of the Shadow.

It was this Puzzle, along with six others, that forged and paved the history of his mighty empire. Those weapons, which were fearfully known to bring mayhem and destruction, brought peace and stability throughout the land, brought food to every household, warded famines and epidemics, and drove away conquerors and imperialists from their gates. All of these carried out according to his will. And yet the weapons were still seen as abominable, wretched… **_He_ **was still seen as abominable, wretched…

Oh, the irony of it all!

"What makes a human, human?" he spoke aloud, even though no one was near him to hear what he uttered. Bastet's ears twitched; it raised its head and looked up at Atem again.

"Do you have an answer for me, Bastet?"

"Meow," it replied.

Humans. How Atem loved these mortals and their frailty! How he'd love their wistful hopes and endless dreams! How he'd marvel at their innocence and simplicity! How he envied their carefree state as they danced jovially and laughed gleefully at humble festivals! How he yearned to experience the simple joy of eating a fruit, or savoring a goblet of rich wine!

But he can't. He could not. He was so different! He was not frail, for he cannot age and die. He did not share the same innocence the humans had, for he grew up in the life of the hunt and murder. No, he cannot dance and laugh, for there was no one to celebrate anything with. He could not even eat anything, for Ra's sake! Only blood kept him alive, the same blood that came from the people he had vowed to love and protect!

Oh, the irony of it all!

Yet he loved the humans! Every single bit about them!

And everything that he had learned to love, he had found it all in one person.

His lean frame, those strong and broad shoulders, his soft, oaken locks…

His clear, blue eyes…

"Sekheth, neb ma'atra, where could you be?" [2]

Bakura's eyes shifted from one priest to another. No one was looking at him in the eye. The absence of the venom in their glares was starting to unnerve him.

"Well?" he asked in a demanding voice. Silence still.

Then the answer came. It was sudden, as if he was instantly plunged in a tub of icy water. So sudden, in fact, that he wasn't able to grasp it all. And when he did…

…He didn't like it at all.

His brown eyes flashed with fury at this sudden realization. He turned to the silent priests.

"Don't tell me…" Bakura now fixed his eyes on Ishizu, who nodded silently in reply.

Bakura cursed most colorfully. "I cannot believe he's looking for his human!"

"The Pharaoh –"

" – is a hopeless idiot!" the white-haired vampire finished, rudely interrupting Mahado. "Or didn't you morons tell him what happened to his so-called beloved?"

"We told him about it," Ishizu replied. But Bakura was not convinced. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"_Everything_, Ishizu?" he asked slowly, emphasizing his words so that the priestess will not miss a single letter.

Ishizu bit her lip. She looked down and stared at her feet, willing her eyes to cast everywhere except to where the thief stood.

"I told him what he needed to know," she said, her head still bowed low, shifty azure eyes flickering uncomfortably.

With a frown, Bakura approached the Priest of the Necklace and seized her chin up with a forceful hand, forcing her to gaze at his eyes.

"You only told him what he _wanted to hear_, Ishizu," he growled at her, their faces so dangerously close that the tip of their noses almost touched. "That's a big difference." Bakura gave her a piercing gaze, a look that probed for the lies that hide behind those cerulean pools.

Her small lips quivered, as if trying to stifle a sob that threatened to escape. Her gentle eyes shone with small beads of tears. Until she couldn't control it anymore. Bringing a hand to her cheek, Ishizu let loose the tears that eventually stung her calm eyes, and allowed her sobs to echo throughout the destroyed hall.

"Get off her," Mahado stepped up and intervened, as his hand pushed Bakura away from Ishizu. He held her tightly in his strong arms, bringing a free hand to the small back, as he gently made soothing circles to calm her.

"Why do you cry, priestess?" Bakura asked. "Do you admit your false judgement?"

Ishizu looked up at him, her cheeks moist with free flowing tears. "The Prince would be devastated, Bakura. I –"

"You think your lies will do him any good?" he spoke up again. He felt his eyes darting back to the painting at the center of the ruins, where it still stood, magnificent and underdamaged as ever. "Have you realized, Miss Ishtar, that you're giving him false hopes?"

"And all this time I thought you were the wisest of the half-breeds," quipped the vampire. "I guess I was mistaken." Silent sobs and more murderous stares only met his harsh statements. Indeed, Atem was not to be found here. Then there was no need for him to stay in this morose place.

He drew up his long black cloak, fastening it close at some select buttons.

"Where are you going?" Mahado immediately asked.

"Away from this place, isn't it obvious?"

"Very nice, Bakura," scowled Karimu as he waved his hand to the broken glass chandelier, the cracked walls, and the crushed pillars. "And what about property damages, eh?"

"Then I'll pay for it, if it pleases you," Bakura snapped in reply as he rolled his eyes. He brushed off the dirt from his slightly-tattered clothes and calmly approached the main door, which remotely looked like a door now, given that it had suffered a lot of physical and Shadow damage from the previous proceedings. He gave one last look at Ishizu.

"If you don't have the guts to tell him to his face, then I'll do it," he simply stated. He gave one final look at the painting.

Then he was gone.

_So many…_

Atem opened his eyes. He can sense so many of his kind.

How could that be?

Questions. That was just one of the myriad things that started popping out in the corner of his mind. _How much have I missed whilst I was asleep?_ So many questions to ask, and yet there was not even a mere trickle of answer to find anywhere. And Atem couldn't fathom where he would begin. He felt like an overwhelming pile of scrolls came crashing down on him at once, that he hasn't got as much as a second to recover. But the prince was certain that he couldn't seek his answers here. At least not among the mortals. He would have to look somewhere else.

With a quick foot, he gracefully left the wet concrete ground below and went atop a tall building. Once up, he looked down on the city below him. The ensuing rain seemed to have added an aura around the metropolis; as the shimmering lights from the buildings and households, street lamps, cars and automobiles sparkled like scattered jewels on a bed of steel and stone, the colors matching the rainbow's spectrum. The dull weather appeared to have softened the very surrounding of the urban area; the once-hard hues now looked pale and subtle. To see such panoramic view from that height was fascinating.

But what was more fascinating, perhaps, was the way of the young prince drifted easily from one place to another, gliding with no apparent effort as if he was born with such nimble feet. Three thousand years of sheer idleness did not dull his instincts as he still ran silently like a fleeting whisper, yet ever fierce and forbidding like a nocturnal hunter that he is. Vampires are indeed built for such stealthy moves.

And for a while, Atem flew past skyscrapers, towers, and satellite dishes, his eyes slack and emotionless, appearing to be in a trance-like state, as he channeled his energy to locate a place where a large congregation of vampires dwells for the night. There he could start looking for his answers.

He stopped abruptly from his search, as he stumbled awkwardly, his knees suddenly feeling fatigue and stress. He knelt on the ground weakly, as his breathing hastened at an alarming rate. And for the first time after a long period of stillness induced by the age-long sleep, Atem could easily tell the inevitable feeling clawing at his systems. He shuddered.

He was thirsty again.

She couldn't find him still. Ishizu heaved a tired sigh.

"I have to try again," she muttered resolutely. She raised up her hand again, preparing another round of incantations. Sweat trickled down from her brow but she chose to ignore her already-weakened state and continued on. She'd just barely started when her body suddenly collapsed to the floor.

"Prince Atem, where are you?" she croaked, as she valiantly tried to stand, but failed miserably. There wasn't enough power left in her to even lift a finger. Then a pair of arms hoisted her up in a comfortable sitting position. Ishizu opened her droopy eyelids and peered at a pair of worried lavender eyes.

"Marik…"

"Sister, you must not strain yourself any further," came Marik's equally-anxious voice. "You have gone a lot of ordeal tonight. You should rest."

"I cannot," Ishizu sighed yet again. "Not when Bakura now knows of His Highness' recent awakening."

"Be it so, you must rest," another voice said. It was Mahado, who knelt down beside the two siblings. He gently pried the priestess from Marik, placing her head carefully on his chest.

"Yeah, you've been working your ass off more than the rest of us," remarked Karimu, who stood near them, trying to put some levity in the grave crisis. "You ought to leave the dirty work to us!"

"Bakura now poses as a threat to the Prince," spoke Shada, who was beside the oaken door of the chamber. "He must be found at once."

"Shada, I don't think that's a problem," Karimu said. "You saw how he deflected the attack that was for the painting - good thing too 'cause that's my finest work - and it sure tells us a lot that he still had something going on for the Prince."

"Even if he was rejected a long time ago," he hastily added, letting out a hearty guffaw. Though none found it funny nor amusing.

"Karimu, Bakura did not take this so-called rejection slightly," Mahado replied. "Thus he has all the reason to be a potential threat to Atem. Especially now that he knew the Prince is looking for Sekheth."

Karimu frowned a bit. "Okay, point taken," he said. "So I guess it's time for some real action, lest the thief will get to Atem first."

"And we cannot use our psychic radar anymore, as there's too much vampire interference," he continued.

"We must send someone out to search for him," Shada said.

Marik silently watched the priests' discussion, and finally, he decided that he should act along with them as well. He stood up instantly, and looked at every priest with a firm gaze. "Then allow me to go and look for him."

"Are you sure about this, Marik?" asked Ishizu softly in a weary tone. "It will be hard to weave the metropolis for the Prince."

"I will find him, sister, no matter what," Marik answered with resolution.

"Way to go, kid," Karimu clamped a reassuring hand on Marik's shoulder. He turned to Ishizu. "So you might as well get your rest, as your brother will handle it."

"I shall be back soon, and the Prince with me as well," Marik held the Scepter tightly.

Ishizu gave his younger brother a weak smile and a slow nod. Her eyelids finally closed, allowing herself to be soothed by Mahado's gentle hands.

Yet she could not help but agree with what Karimu had said. For Ishizu, Bakura was not the immediate threat in this crisis. She did not dwell upon this rousing suspicion a while ago, but now she could not help but think of all those vampires who suddenly turned up over the course of time, and how their numbers dramatically increased until now.

And all those time, she thought it was all the thief's doings. Yet it was not, and she had to take Bakura's word for it. For the said vampire had held a deep dislike and overt disdain towards mortals and humans-turned-vampires, or half-bloods, like Ishizu ever since their own age centuries ago…

And what of the Prince's awakening? Who did it?

Ishizu left an unanswered question as her consciousness finally drifted away.

Then if it wasn't Bakura, who could it be?

To Be Continued

Footnotes: **[1]** Nut…that's the Egyptian goddess of the skies

[2] Neb ma'atra…this would be the Egyptian word for 'beloved'. Now, if this is Ancient Egyptian or the modern one, I can't tell… That's because I don't know sweatdrops Uuurgh, sorry for being such an intellectually-challenged moron

Author's Notes: This chapter took me a long time to finish because of two lovely reasons: **[1]** I was a lazy, self-centered prick, and **[2]** I had a bad case of writer's block, which rendered me completely useless for days. I guess I was just out of inspiration, but I don't know…I guess it happens to us once in a while… Perhaps it was our brain's ingenious idea to rest by putting us out of our usual creative self, so that the next time our minds log in, we'll feel just as invigorated. Ahihi What the heck am I spouting about? sweatdrops yet again

**THANKS FOR YOUR REVIEWS!** throws a lot of confetti and cookies Keep 'em coming, as well as other suggestions and comments! I am still plot-deprived, so all the chapters I'm writing now are more or less spur-of-the-moment kind of chapters. T-T

**AND LEAVE YOUR EMAIL ADDIES!** Even if you don't feel like reviewing, you can just write your email at the Reviews section! **A Yami Yugi illustration made by yours truly shall be yours for FREE!** YES, IT IS FREE for every purchase of two crates of rotten eggs and… rambles a lot

Fanfics galore! Other titles under my name are: **Merry-Go-Round** and **The Unfaithful**! Read them and tell me what you think! flashes a toothy grin And I might as well plug other fanfics from other writers I have learned to love for their stories and concepts! There are just so many people who kick asses out there! Beings like such include:

silver dragongurl – Honda/Jounouchi writer, a hopeless romantic with too many pairings in her actual life

Elusia – an author of one nice fic about Ancient Egypt. Cruel High Priest, by the way.

Minor Arcana – truckloads of stories under this authoress, ranging from the megalomaniacal chronicles of a particular delivery service to an epic of powerful High Priests of the mighty Kingdom of the Nile

swtdream07's – A lady in Seto Kaiba's ball stuns the living daylights out of the Spirit in the Millenium Puzzle. And it seems the woman was strangely familiar…

Picaro – More vampiric fanfics! How would you sympathize with a vampire who's got a broken fang? laughs uncontrollably

Ayasaka – Tales of Phantasia, anyone? No one can't seem to get enough of the pink-haired witch and her flurry feelings towards a particular someone!

And so much more! I'm not even halfway through the long list…smiles and sweatdrops

Okay, now that everything's said and done, I hope I get to see you all on the next chapters! Stick with me! XD


	5. Feeding

Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine

Author's Notes: Did I say I update once every week? Well, that was a theoretical assumption, and I guess I should take it back! Homework and extracurricular activities are piling up on me, and I tell ya, it was scary!! . So I have to work on them lest they'll haunt me in my dreams! ((shudders)) 'Gomen nasai' (I'm sorry) for the delay! ((bows down repeatedly))

But on the lighter note… You're now reading the fifth chapter! And it's still going! And for some odd reason, I've managed to draft out a plausible plot. YAY! ((brings out a bottle of champagne and celebrates)) And with the pacing my story's going, I guess it'll be thriving on a lot of chapters, hovering somewhere around twenty or so… Of course, this story wouldn't even be possible if it weren't for all of you READERS who tirelessly peruse my literary frustrations… , ((bows down in gratitude))

To **Elusia**: Hmm…so what would Bakura eventually reveal to Atem (Yami)? Hmm... :D

To **swtdream07**: That's sweet! Looks like you're one good sister! 'Wish my sister could do the same to me, though…She usually clobbers me… T.T

To **BlackScarab**: Waaaaiii! Another Anne Rice reader! Though I haven't read all her books, I am just as crazy for her characters, writing style, and yaoi-filled plots! Glad you liked my story

To **uke Seto gal**: Waaah! Can you write your email addy again? I tried e-mailing you, but I get a 'Failure Delivery' message! I'd love to hear your ideas!

To **silver dragongurl**: Yes, yes, Mahado and Ishizu are cute together!

To **Misoka**: Whee, hello new reviewer! Hope you received the gift art! YGO just fits the whole vampire stuff!

To **LadyZephyros**: And another new reviewer! nods Nice to know you're starting to get really addicted to the YGO series! I tell you this is one hell of an anime! thumbs up I'm eagerly waiting for your next update on Beyblade!

To **Minor Arcana**: I wish I have all the free time in this world, just as you do… cries Hehe, great work on The Reeds, The Lotus, and The High Priest as always!

Disclaimer: I WANT TO OWN YU-GI-OH! BUT I CAN'T!!! ((howls in frustration, eyes with tears leaking out like an unchecked faucet)) Okay, Yu-Gi-Oh –from its logo, to its characters, to cards, and down to its merchandise – is owned by Takahashi and TV Tokyo, and some heavy, high-profile companies. So please don't even try to sue me… You'll get NOTHING out from me, except a couple of battered sketchpads and a handful of pencils, and that's very disappointing for you. (in case you really want to sue me, of course) 'o' But, if there is something I own around here, it would have to be the story, though I have a feeling this plot is way too common in most fanfictions. But I'm not complaining. 'o'

Warning: Though Seto and Atem still have yet to cross each other's paths, you will eventually come across some shonen-ai material that will inevitably bloom to yaoi. So if you think this is not for you, torment yourself no longer! The Back Button is located at the upper left of your window for your convenience. Or in case that won't suffice, you might as well press AltF4 and be done with it. :D If otherwise, then troop in and read on! XD

Summary: An untimely awakening sends the Prince of the Night to a disheveled era unbeknownst to him, and his pursuit of a past hurls him in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death… Review and you automatically receive a prize o

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Chapter Five: Feeding

(A/N: Are you a new reviewer? Leave your email address at the Reviews Section, so I can bombard you with lots of junk mails, death threats, and an unlimited stash of forwarded messages and hopeless electronic viruses! ((cackles evilly)) )

Atem could feel his fangs brushing against his pale lips. His breathing suddenly became ragged and sharp, as his heart constricted painfully in his chest. Everything around him seemed to have started spinning, as his eyes shifted warily from one point to another, slacking off as it lost its focus.

His forehead was already shining with the imperious Eye, his power flowing unchecked in tremendous amounts. His eyes stung sharply; his vision now as accurate as ever, able to distinguish a great deal of detail from his surroundings, even in the darkest corners. His pearly fangs glinted dangerously, and seemed to have sharpened, now piercing and twice as deadly. His body clung to the new surge of sensations, as he slowly morphed and transformed into a vicious hunter. A hunter, fully equipped with a lethal arsenal coupled with the body meant for the task, ready to take life as quickly as it came.

The life of the hunt. This was his life.

All for the sake of blood, the lone source that could assure his survival. The crimson liquid that could only quench the parched throat craving for it. It was all for that addicting substance, that drove Atem's body to betray his protests against taking it, becoming an invincible assassin in a desperate attempt to satiate the perverse addiction.

"I do not want to kill!" the prince cried out. Yet his pleas were all for nothing. How many times have he uttered that statement? And how many times have he slain innocent travelers, wanderers, and beggars? How many times had he drunk the blood from them, draining it till the last drop? How many people should die so that he can live?

But the primal instinct thriving in him took full control; there was nothing he could do. Atem stood up, transfixed in a trance-like state, his faster and nimbler legs silently brushing the ground, rushing forward to where his equally-sharp sense of smell led him: to an unsuspecting victim. There was someone nearby.

Someone to kill.

Atem lifted himself up to a high place, to where he could watch his prey from afar first, calculating the exact time he should move in for the kill. He didn't make the slightest of sounds, and the victim seemed not to notice anything. The victim looked a few years physically mature than the prince, and was finishing a stick of his cigarette, the smoke rising up a few inches until finally dissipating along with the wind. The hunter licked his lips eagerly, and waited impatiently for the man to discard the stick.

And with one final puff, the unwary man flicked the cigarette butt to the ground. He watched it mounting up in the air for a brief second, and felt an unearthly pressure on his neck. He wheezed painfully and agonizingly raised up his hands to ease the foreign hands away, but to no avail. He cried sharply as piercing daggers dug into his neck and felt blood trickling down his throat. He could not grasp air anymore, and his system was dulling one by one, his eyes seeing his finished cigarette –still with a few wispy embers – meeting the wet puddle on the ground for the last time. There was a soft hiss as the cigarette's fire finally gave its life, along with its smoker.

The hunter had taken his prey.

Atem blinked, as if disoriented, and sadly looked at the fallen man, his pale eyes opened, devoid of life. "Please forgive me," he whispered as he bent down to close those blank, pitiful orbs. He held out his hand and allowed a Shadow sphere surround the mortal's limp frame.

"I never wanted to kill…" his voice trailed off.

But why _did_ he kill?

It was because he had to; if he chose not to kill, he would die. This killer instinct – this feeding frenzy – was so hard to suppress, and yet he allowed himself to do it. Perhaps...

…he wanted to kill all along. For deep inside he _wanted_ to live, despite his nature as a slayer. For his way to life was through the death of others. His victims cannot live while he survives. There has to be someone to go. Yet Ra, he wanted to live.

"Let me live," he said to the lifeless body, as the orb slowly vanished from his hands. "I want to live…"

"Let me live so I can see Sekheth…"

-------------------------

"You are so kind, so sweet, so humble, so considerate, so honest…"

Seto heaved out a half-tired, half-frustrated sigh. He could not, for the love of God, concentrate on his monthly sales report, due to the endless rambling going on around him. He had to review his weekly reports regarding his company's performance, discern over a dozen contracts, turn down ten magazine interviews, fire some more incompetent employees, and clear all pending transactions on his 'in' tray before Friday.

That would be tomorrow.

"…so loving, so caring, so sweet, and did I mention sweet? You're so –"

"Mokuba, are you planning to do a eulogy about me?" Seto interrupted his younger brother.

Mokuba stopped momentarily. "Nope. Why?"

"Because you sound like you're making one," he replied. "Apparently, I am still alive and well, and I am not ready to hand over the company to you just yet." And Seto was not used to being called 'sweet', 'kind', nor 'caring'. His name was not easily associated with such adjectives. Words like 'jerk', 'asshole', and 'creep' were more likely to be used. (Those who he'd heard using them on him were immediately relieved off their duties.)

"Oh, big brother, I was just going on about how kind and loving you are, allowing me to go to Isis' convention with a VIP pass, and you're even going to accompany me to that event!" He smiled fondly at the lavishly-decorated pass. Mokuba will definitely keep this as a memoir and proof to show his classmates that he was fortunate enough to meet the authoress personally._ 'They'll be so jealous!' _he thought.

"That's because you need a guardian; obviously, I can't let you go there on your own," Seto said.

"You're just saying that because you wanted to go there YOURSELF," And with a playful poke to the elder's rib, Mokuba raised both his eyebrows expectantly. "Maybe you might want to check out Miss Isis, huh, huh?" He grinned.

Seto let out a derisive snort. "I don't have time for that, Mokuba, you know that perfectly well." Then he frowned. "What's with that grin on your face?"

"Nothing," Mokuba lied, still smiling.

"Don't you have homework to do?" asked the older Kaiba.

"All done!"

"What about your TV programs?" Seto asked yet again. It was very hard to keep his attention on the electronic spreadsheet before him. "What about that…Yu-Gi-Oh show or something? They must be airing a new episode tonight. Why don't you check it out?"

"Yu-Gi-Oh airs at 4:30 in the afternoon. It's already finished!"

"Then, don't you have anything better to do, perhaps?" Seto groaned inwardly; his younger sibling didn't seem to want to go anywhere away from him.

"Okay, I guess I'd better use the Net, then," Mokuba said finally.

"Best idea you have ever," Seto gratefully said, standing up to escort his brother out of his room. "Just don't stay too long."

"Okay."

"No more unauthorized credit card purchases, pre-orders, and e-Bays."

"So that means you're authorizing me now?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Mokuba."

"Okay, okay…"

"And don't go to porn and gay websites."

"You blocked them off actually, so I can't access them."

"MOKUBA!"

"Geez, big bro, I was only joking…"

"I _did_ block off the porn sites, Mokuba…" Seto shot him a suspicious and disapproving glare, arms folded ominously in front of his chests.

"I won't do anything naughty!"

"Well, you'd better not." He ruffled his younger brother's wild tangle of black hair. "Brush your teeth and drink your milk," he added.

"Will you read me a bedtime story before I sleep?"

"Mokuba…"

Mokuba held out his two fingers up in a peace sign. "Just kidding!" he grinned. He gave his brother a brief hug. "Good night, big brother."

"Good night." And Seto gave one of the rarest smiles to his younger sibling.

"Thanks for the invitation."

"No problem."

"You're the kindest, bestest, goodest, coolest, greatest BIGGEST brother any kid could ever have. You're so –"

"MOKUBA, BEAT IT! BEFORE I DECIDE TO TEAR YOUR PRECIOUS INVITATION APART!"

Mokuba gulped and ran off.

Seto sighed. _'Mokuba down, a million tasks to go…'_

-------------------------

Atem fixed his eyes on a fairly-large warehouse. It was shabby-looking, along with the other run-down buildings in the vicinity. This part of the town was deserted, forlorn, and wasn't very much cared properly by the few people loitering around it. Trash bins and bigger trash dispensers lay haphazardly on the sides of the street. Broken windows, rickety stairs, old cars and other destroyed furniture and objects joined with the quiet and somehow-eerie ensemble of the whole place. Stray dogs and cats picked through the helpless heap of garbage, their bones baring through their thin flesh.

Even from the outside, one can easily distinguish the overflowing scent of blood. There was muffled music that managed to escape from the place, and the young Pharaoh could tell there must be hundreds of them packed inside the place.

Vampires.

He walked towards the decrepit structure, towards the looming entrance. He spotted two large men standing guard, both dressed in black outfits, and bedecked with heavy jewelry. As Atem approached the door, both men looked up and regarded him quickly; he could imagine their eyes raking down on him behind their dark glasses.

"I've never seen you before," the man said in a booming voice.

"I am a foreigner," replied Atem, using the mortals' new language he had recently learned.

"Yeah, you got a different accent," the other man observed, taking note of the slight difference in the visitor's speech.

"You got wonderful timing. The vampires are feeding inside." One of them led Atem in.

Loud, funky, and upbeat music blasted inside, as harsh red lights raked through the raucous crowd. There was so many cramped inside; Atem was practically bumping into everybody. Men and women were dressed in skimpy and tight outfits – some were almost naked –accessories clinging to almost every part of their body. A group of women seemed to notice the Pharaoh; they drew near and surrounded him, flaunting their large bosoms at him, rubbing it against him. The young sovereign winced slightly at the contact, for he never really liked them and their straightforward ways. These women reminded him of the pleasure slaves that danced in front of him from way back, and he wasn't just as fond of them either. A woman wormed closer to him, planting him a firm kiss on his lips, while her free hands roamed around Atem's body. He gasped in surprise, bringing up his hands to shove the person away.

"What, cutie, don't you like me?" she asked in a sultry voice, her painted fingers tracing Atem's face.

"No, I am sorry, I –"

"Oooh, he's a foreigner! I love his accent!" cooed another one of them. Atem was now twitching uncomfortably; these women LOVED to touch him everywhere.

"Are you alone, mister?" asked another, a short-haired lady.

"Yes, I do not –"

The girls clasped their hands eagerly. "Perfect!"

"You can come with us; we'll keep you company!"

"Listen, I want to see your leader," Atem shouted through the din of noises. "I wish to speak to him!"

One of them quirked an eyebrow. "You want to see our boss?"

Atem nodded. "Yes, I would like to –"

Then all of them laughed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"No one rules over us vampires!" shrieked the short-haired woman in his ear.

Atem furrowed his eyebrow. "Impossible," he said. "You must have a common Root, your Maker!"

They were now looking at him as if his head suddenly bloated in size. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't understand, you –"

"Cutie, you don't need to trouble yourself any longer!" said the woman who had the audacity to kiss him. "Let us ease all your bodily tension; let us make you feel good!"

Atem was now losing his patience. He had never seen vampires – or even women – who acted with so much aggressiveness. Gone were the days when the Pharaoh's space was considered holy, and that subjects must maintain a strict distance away from their king. But now, unknown persons get to travel their naughty hands to equally-naughty places; they were much too close for comfort. Today's people were strange indeed. From the way they behaved, they could've been half-bloods, or humans that were turned to vampires. And yet, such behavior was still deemed unprecedented. He whirled in his place, and tried to wean away from the sexually-active group, but one seized him painfully around his arm.

"Let go of me!" Atem brushed the hand roughly away. Another grabbed his arm, tugging him forcibly. But Atem was now at the brink of cracking up. Without meaning to, he pushed the intruder instantly with a wave of his hand, his Eye flickering to life once again.

The woman shrieked as she collided with other vampires. She hissed vehemently at the Pharaoh, baring her sharp fangs at him, her fingers appearing quite like talons. Now, more vampires joined the fray, all closing their ranks on Atem. Some bared their razor-like weapons, while some brought out their guns, cocking the trigger and aiming it at the sovereign, while some clenched their fists threateningly.

"You think I would be easily deterred by your little tools?" scoffed Atem, reverting to his ancient tongue, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. They may be vampires, yet they were neither as ancient nor as powerful as he was.

The music died, and all fell silent, muscles tense and ready to deliver their blow.

A long knife zoomed towards Atem. It froze in midair, as he held a finger nonchalantly to stop its motion. It clattered noisily to the ground.

Everyone followed suit.

His Shadow powers now flowing freely from his body, he let out a loud cry, the Eye's light dazzling and blinding, and along with it came a very powerful force that sent most of the attackers crashing against walls and heavy equipment. Those in the periphery saw the unfurling events and fled from the scene, stampeding through tables and couches, breaking glasses and wine bottles, crying out with panic-stricken voices for their lives as they all rushed to the exit. It was total chaos.

The purplish-black glow danced eerily around Atem as he drew near to the panicking crowd before him. More chaotic noises.

"Honey, you can stop your tantrums now," a voice said, a hand resting on Atem's shoulder.

-------------------------

Bakura stopped in his tracks. He smiled.

"Sometimes, Atem can be so much of a show-off," he said aloud. There was no mistaking the unleashed power of the Shadow. Not even the former ruler's priests can generate such.

Perched atop on a tall skyscraper, Bakura felt the cool air lightly caressing his face. He stood on its very edge, not the least bit unnerved at the precarious height that can easily overwhelm anyone. He threw his arms wide open, meeting the soft draft of air, as if like a bird preparing its wings for an air glide.

"See, Horus, I shall fly and find you…" came his fleeting whisper. His body tilted forward, and joined with the rush of the wind, falling, falling…

Marik watched the thief's descent, his purple eyes staring and unblinking.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Then he was gone.

-------------------------

"For a handsome man, you sure have a pretty short fuse."

Atem sat on one of the soft leather couches, a bit shaken, but had considerably calmed after the incident. The place – a bar, as it turned out – was in a state of total wreck. Even Atem wouldn't know where to begin describing the damages. A few people were left inside – probably the workers – rummaging through the pile of disgruntled and dismantled pieces of furniture and appliances, sifting through it, trying as they might to salvage at least something from the rubble. Some did not bother to recover anything at all, discarding the broken instruments and junk that practically littered around them. And while everyone was getting busy, the princely youth stared impassively, crimson eyes dull, his body refusing to move and do anything, productive or not. The Eye was still up, alight on his forehead, slowly dimming, though still noticeable enough.

"Imagine how bad will this be for my business."

At last, Atem seemed to snap out of his state of limbo, and for the first time, he saw the person who restrained him from doling out the rest of his Shadow powers on the frantic crowd of vampires a while ago.

Purple eyes stared back at him with mild interest, as the said person flipped her blond locks nonchalantly over her shoulder, the lazy curls bouncing slightly, like a fleeting giggle. She was a woman, of course, and a stunning and beautiful one at that. She looked physically older than the Pharaoh, perhaps a little over twenty, but the young visage could not hide the wisdom framed in those lavender pools. But it was a different kind of wisdom, not the same with Ishizu's; this woman seemed to have seen and experienced things that can rival with the priestess herself. Whereas Ishizu was a conservative type of lady, refined in a whole deal of things and wise beyond her years, this blonde lady was a complete and stark opposite. She stood defiantly with an unmistakable air of arrogance and intimidation while dressed in an outfit meant to allure and enamour. She looked particularly scandalous, and yet there was dignity with the way she held herself. The prince had to admit, upon his short and well-probed scrutiny, this person was not someone to look down upon and underestimate. She was someone to be taken in seriously.

"Hey! You three! Get your sorry butts over here!" she called out.

The Pharaoh watched in silence as three figures walked slowly and clumsily to where he sat, looking much like children who were caught doing something wrong. The blonde woman had her arms folded, her lips taut in a frown. The apologetic looks from the group heightened another notch; all three of them shifted uncomfortably in their place.

"These are the ladies who happened to harass you, am I right?" the woman queried.

The three shuddered involuntarily as they felt red eyes slanting at their direction.

Atem nodded, his Eye still refusing to die, and was now gaining more intensity than it shouldn't have.

The woman eyed them furiously and turned to them, acrid voice dripping in her speech. "Of all the customers you managed to annoy, you bitches had the misfortune to pick a powerful bloodsucker!" The three bowed their head even lower in shame and deep regret.

"Forgive us, mistress," one blurted out.

"Apologize to our guest," the blonde woman ordered.

"Forgive us," the ladies apologized truthfully, as all of them proceeded to kneel before the sovereign. The mistress did not look remotely pleased, but speak none about it.

"Now, get out of my sight," she said. "I'll deal with you later." In an impatient wave of a hand, the women scrambled out hurriedly, choosing not to say anything lest their mistress thought otherwise.

"Sorry about that," the lady said in a surprisingly gentle and apologetic voice. "Those Harpy Ladies can be so naughty at most times. They always end up in sticky situations with the other customers." [1]

"Harpy…ladies?" Atem stared, confused.

The woman let out an easy laugh. "Oh, sorry, that's what those ladies are called here in the bar. It's some sort of nickname around here, and they're pretty notorious for that."

"I see."

"Have you only recently awakened?" came the woman's voice again, in turn, bringing a surprised look on the youth's pale face. Atem looked up. This woman seems awfully perceptive, he thought.

"You don't need to tell me as it's quite obvious," the woman said knowingly, purple eyes glinted at the prince's direction. "Vampires of all shapes and sizes flock here to my place, and each one I have seen and known very well. This is my first time to have seen you, and believe me, boy, you're not easy to miss." She pointed at the spiky locks of Atem, "With that hairdo, it's no surprise you're very much like a head-turner."

"Point number two," she continued, not missing a beat. "From the looks of it, you appear to be a very powerful vampire, and I can see the damage quite clearly and perfectly." Her eyes strayed to the dismantled stereo. "Not all vamps can dish out powers like yours…" the voice trailed off.

"Which brings me to my assumption that you're an ancient bloodsucker." She sat down next to Atem and inched closer, the distance so small they could hear each other's breaths. Then she whispered in the sovereign's ear, her lips brushing his earlobe ever slightly. "And if you're ancient, you are a Root, perhaps?"

Growing uncomfortable of the closeness he and the stranger had, Atem quickly stood up.

"You seem to know a lot of things, woman," Atem spoke, the regal tone of his voice fierce. The mistress appeared slightly unnerved, almost fearful.

"I came here for questions."

-------------------------

Much to Seto's relief, Mokuba was already asleep when he decided to check up on him in his room. The computer was left on, and more of his younger sibling's clothes were scattered on the carpeted floor. He picked them up dutifully and placed them on a laundry basket. He then moved to the table and checked Mokuba's books and some of his homework. _'At least Mokuba was true to his word,'_ Seto thought wistfully. He turned the computer off, and went for Mokuba's bed, where a clump of black hair can be seen amidst the tangle of sheets. Seto gazed at the sleeping form of his brother, who had his mouth wide open at the moment.

"Hello, Miss Isis, so nice to meet you," Mokuba mumbled dreamily. "My brother thinks you're pretty."

Seto snorted. Trust Mokuba to say flattering things and give the full credit to his brother. His eyes caught something in the younger Kaiba's hand. He leaned closer and saw the VIP invitation for the event on Saturday. He smiled to himself.

"Mokuba, you might crumple that," he pointed out as he fished the card out of Mokuba's hand. He settled it on top of the bedside table carefully.

"Oh no, I might lose the invitation!" cried Mokuba. Seto was a bit surprised at the sudden outburst, thinking that he had woken up his younger brother. He took a glance at him, and saw that Mokuba was just mumbling in his sleep.

"No you won't," blue-eyed Seto answered as he arranged the tousled sheets, tucking them at the sides. He patted the boy gently, and began to meander back to the door. He gave Mokuba one last look, and closed the door behind him.

"One o' clock in the morning," Seto muttered tiredly as he walked back to his room. A soft, chilling wind rattled the windowpanes, as leaves drifted by along. He opened the door to his room, and saw the French doors wide open, the wind circling the generous space. Then a sudden rush of air blew in, whooshing past Seto, the abrupt force sent the door banging heavily to a close. A resounding boom reverberated in the silent mansion, vibrating through the glasses, past the curtains, and lingering in the empty stillness of the vast house.

Seto cursed under his breath. _'That was far too noisy,'_ he remarked. _'Should I have the place installed with soundproof and shock-absorbing panels?' _He walked in his room, and closed the balcony doors silently, locking it just in case. One could not help but to be careful these days.

Something landed with a dull thump behind Seto, causing the latter to turn suddenly, his body leaving the groggy and sleepy state, now wary and alert. He scanned his room, suspicious blue eyes straining over every nook and cranny. Until something caught his attention.

He sighed. "My nerves are awfully twitchy," he murmured, as he bent down to pick a book, the apparent source of the thump. The book had its back at Seto; he promptly turned it around.

Bold and cursive letters emblazoned the thick hardbound book, its silver letters contrasting against the jet-black and velvety jacket. It looked much more like a diary than a book.

It was one of Mokuba's books, to be exact, one of the many novels he'd confiscated from his brother's hands.

Invoke.

A fleeting look passed by Seto's eyes, misty and far-off. His thumb wandered to the edge of book, feeling the paper beneath his finger, almost as if there was some brad of magic lingering on the said material. For one wild moment, he considered opening the book and perhaps reading it. Yet he stopped in his tracks; he was already halfway through the title page. He closed it resolutely.

"I'm sleepy," he said finally as he pulled the bedside drawer open, lodging the book inside it.

"That book better stay tucked in there."

-------------------------

"Questions. Yes, you do seem to be overflowing with those, Highness." The blonde woman eyed him closely, as if appraising the proud form of the sovereign. Those blood-red eyes were the most stunning pairs she had ever seen. In fact, he was the only person –humans included – that had those color- so vivid and red, as if the very blood he drinks goes there.

"I shall do my best to answer them with as much truth and information I can provide, but I am afraid you have to fall in line and wait your turn for the meantime."

The mistress shrugged. "There are more pressing matters at hand," she waved a hand vaguely at the destroyed space around her. "Like my bar. This is bad for my business, you know."

Atem's gave a sigh and bowed his head. "I apologize."

The woman smiled. "Nah, it's alright," she said. "My bar needs renovating, anyway."

"Then I must leave and delay you no more," came the courteous tone from the prince.

"You do that."

"I have one question before I go."

"Shoot."

"Do tell me your name."

"They call me Mistress around here, but you can call me Mai." She winked at him.

"Very well, Miss Mai, I shall return," Atem gave her a curt nod. Mai blinked once, and saw him no more.

Mai stood for a whole minute before digging through her purse. She brought out her mobile phone, and punched a number.

"Yes?" a voice from the other line started.

"The Prince came, Max, just as you anticipated."

"Excellent. I'll tell my son about this."

To Be Continued

Footnotes: **[1]** Hihi, I was thinking of putting the Harpy Ladies somewhere in this fic. And so I did! Hope you like it! looks at my YGO deck of cards I wonder who's next in my list of cameo appearances? ((thinks)) The Mystical Elf looks pretty… ((giggles))

Author's Notes: This chapter should've been done ages ago! Sadly, reality bit me hard in the butt, and schoolwork still continues to pile high on my nonexistent 'in' tray. ((sighs suddenly breaks out in hysterical laughter)) BUT I SHALL NOT YIELD! I SHALL FINISH THIS, NO MATTER WHAT!! laughs some more

Again, your continued patronage, my readers, is the only thing that helps me all the way through, and more thanks are dished out to you Your comments matter a lot, so tell me what you think!

**GOOD NEWS!** I have added another drawing to my growing list of YGO fanarts! So don't forget to include your virtual address (email), so I can deliver them to you personally!

**GOT REQUESTS?** Suddenly, I am in the mood of dishing out works! ((voice inside my head: Huh? I thought you're busy with school?)) ((Mooguri Klaine pushes the annoying voice away)) Ehem, ehem… So if you have anything in mind – doesn't matter if it's YGO or not, so long as I know how to draw it – TELL ME! ((voice inside my head: Oh boy…))

Hey, thanks again, and I hope I see you all on the next chapter! Gee, I hope you still read my Author's Notes…hmmm…


	6. Photographed Vision

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Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine

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Author's Notes: Okay…I want to die now. ((grabs a taut nylon rope))

So, here I was, sending the decrepit piece of junk that was my computer to some technician to have it repaired (the technical aspect I shall not delve into), along with ((huffs dangerously)) **EXPLICIT SET OF INSTRUCTIONS NOT TO DELETE THE CONTENTS OF MY FOLDERS ESPECIALLY MY FANFICS, **and the said computer comes back, perfectly fine with one tiny flaw… ((pauses)) **THE HARD DRIVE WAS TOTALLY WIPED CLEAN! TABULA RASA **(meaning empty slate)**! WHERE THE F ARE MY DOCUMENTS?! **Okay, my school reports totally gone, I can live with that…**BUT MY FANFICS?! WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY PLAYING AT?! **((storms out of the room, starts smashing things and looks for that stupid son-of-a- technician))

That, my friends, is just one of the dozen reasons why I am horribly late updating this chapter. Care to know what the other eleven reasons are?

Reason 11:Yes, this obsolete computer needs a bit troubleshooting, so I sent it away to computer paramedics. And it'll be back in a jiffy, they said…

Reason 10: …and it came back three weeks later. Uh-huh… "jiffy all right…"

Reason 9: Extra-curricular activities. I am a part of an anime enthusiast organization in our university, and am currently being "exploited" (this word helpfully supplied by another member) for having the apparent talent to draw.

Reason 8 and 7: SCHOOLWORK. Enough said.

Reason 6: Procrastination and my other demons such as laziness, laziness, and laziness…

Reason 5: Disheartened and disillusioned…

Reason 4, 3, 2 and 1: …after having found out that NONE OF MY WRITTEN FANFICS AND SCANNED ARTWORKS WERE SALVAGED. I was in a state of shock for a few hours before I started bashing things.

And I have currently added my brother to my to-kill list for sending the computer away without even WAKING ME UP to tell me to SAVE MY WORKS IN A DISKETTE. Yes, I did decide that I should have it repaired, yet it seemed that he took the liberty of bringing it to the techies. And it was DAWN when he left the house at that time…

So there we have it… ((bows down repeatedly)) Forgive me for the really really REALLY LATE UPDATE!! And I'm sorry for dishing out all my woes on this page because I totally felt bad after the said "accident". And I still do. I NEED YOUR SHOULDER TO CRY ON! Chapter Six was halfway done at that time and would've made it on my usual posting days. And not only did I lose Young Blood, I also lost all of my unfinished fics all waiting to be polished and posted! WAAAAA!!((wails)) Forgive me! ((goes to a dark corner and sobs some more))

I must make it up to you in any way! So, I'll be posting this chapter and add the next at once, and I'll be working on the succeeding chapters extra hard. Let's face it – my old files are totally gone. I can't spend the rest of my days wallowing in solitude, now can I? :D

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READERS! After everything that has happened to me, you are still that glimmer of hope in a dark tunnel! Gee, I sound too sappy! XD

To **LadyZephyros**: Why Horus? Horus is one of the gods of Ancient Egyptians, who is the son of Osiris and Isis. After battling with the evil god Seth, Horus was proclaimed the victor and was crowned as the Pharaoh of Egypt. Well basically, all Pharaohs in Ancient Egypt are said to be the embodiment of Horus, so it's safe to say that Atem, who was once a Pharaoh, be called Horus. 'Hope I cleared that up! :D

To **Elusia**: Thanks for that observation! I was thinking I didn't do much justice on Atem's bloodlust, yet it turned out to be okay for you! Thanks a lot! XD

To **silver dragongurl**: … XD

To **Minor Arcana**: Weee, you liked Mai! ((beams at Minor Arcana)) And here I was thinking she was a bit off… :D And as for your drawing, I'll work on it as soon as I sort my other things out! I'm going to have fun drawing Neith! ((giggles))

To **Misoka**: Yeah, thanks! Though I'm in no rush, I really want to pick up the pace of my story so as not to bore you guys out! Thanks again!

To **Faith the uke Seto gal**: Lovely suggestion! And I can't wait to read your fic! There's just so much to talk about! I'll keep in touch at once! :D I do hope you received my mail! Sometimes, email just wanted to be stubborn and chose not to send mails! X3

To **Lucifur:** Short review, but fills my heart at the right spot, nonetheless! Thanks!

To **Swtdreams07:** Nope, I won't regret this! ((whispers)) Even though with the mounting pile of schoolwork, it'll be challenging, if not hard! Ehehhe! And as for when Seto will meet Atem… hmmm… ((enigmatic smile))

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Disclaimer: After all that stuff I spouted in the Author's Notes part, I don't feel like adding more insane commentaries. Plus, I must be boring you out… YGO is not mine. I hope you got that.

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Warning: This fanfic is loaded with shonen-ai material as well as yaoi. Back off if you don't like this. Get out of here if you think YGO is crap to you. If otherwise… BE MY GUEST! XD

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Summary: An intersection marks the meeting of personalities, and the intricate web starts its spinning, upon which a shattering conflict is born amidst of it all. Will the Prince find the azure eyes of Sekheth once more? READ, REVIEW AND GET A PRIZE! XD

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Chapter Six: Photographed Vision

(A/N: I tried to remember all that I've written so far, but I only got a few measly lines off of my brain. What you're reading now is a newer – and hopefully better- version! It still sticks to my original plot of course. :D)

_Being a Kaiba sure has its perks._

This is what Mokuba had realized upon disembarking from the limousine as cameras started clicking away madly to greet their entrance. Suddenly the air was alive with a flurry of sound, and the very area permeated gushes of excitement from onlookers and guests.

"It seems that the elusive billionaire Seto Kaiba showed up in this event along with his younger brother…" Mokuba heard a reporter from somewhere. He couldn't help but smile at this. The Kaiba Family has long been a subject of discussions among the media, the social circles, and among the other citizens, even before their father's time. Yet the public's fervor intensified a couple of notches higher when his older brother took the corporate chair from their deceased father. Needless to say, the media community had finally found the so-called "darling of the press". Soon enough, factions dedicated to the said young man started sprouting like mushrooms, along with a constant mob of paparazzi camping outside the Kaiba mansion and the Kaiba Corporation Building.

A big crowd of fan girls cooed with glee as they waved in unison at the brunet CEO, calling his name to catch his attention, but the blue-eyed debonair deliberately avoided the annoying pleas. After all these years, Seto could still never get used to all the attention.

And so was Mokuba. _'I mean, why fuss over a Kaiba, anyway?'_ he mused in his thoughts. _'It's not like my brother is so special…'_ He felt his brother quicken his pace and practically strode down the length of the red carpet. Despite that, he managed to crack a smile.

"Mister Seto Kaiba, are you a fan of Miss Isis' works? What is your purpose for going to this event?" a reporter barked to Seto from the sidelines, as microphones, cameras, and pens were all poised and ready for the blue-eyed businessman.

Seto glared at the people for a moment and proceeded to make their way to the entrance of the hall and half-dragged Mokuba who was smiling nervously at the crowd, looking thoroughly pleased with all that's happening.

The brothers were easily admitted inside the lavishly decorated hall. Another of the "perks" Mokuba was certainly happy about – instant access to gatecrash any party in Domino City without anyone actually getting mad about it. Apparently, his older brother's face was worth a truckload of IDs; something's definitely wrong with you if you don't recognize even a single strand of hair from him. Plus, Mokuba gets to keep the invitation as his proof of attendance.

Upon entering the threshold, Seto's blue eyes drifted upward briefly to take a glimpse of the venue for the cocktail party. Gleaming crystal chandeliers shone iridescently against a marble ceiling; everything seemed to shine with elegance and affluence. And yet for Seto, all of these were too lavish, too extravagant. And he was never a patron for such intricacies. He shook his head furtively in disgust. _'Some people have weird tastes.'_

There will always be fans of the authoress at the higher wrings of the social ladder, which was why this posh party was held in the first place. People kept coming in their expensive cars, signature attires, and glittering jewelry, while others settled inside, sipping their Martinis while exchanging talks ranging from their latest island excursions to the Bahamas down to their secret love affairs.

Both Seto and Mokuba were careful not to step on someone else's shoes or trod on someone's long gown as the place was practically teeming with guests. There wasn't pretty much elbow room for everyone. Seto highly doubted all of these rich folks came from Domino. He spotted a lot of visitors from outside the city – some even from outside the country, like little Rebecca Hawkins and her grandfather who came all the way from the United States. But there were still a lot closer to home – like the action star Tristan Taylor, who was pretty much absorbed into getting all the cameras to focus on him. On the other hand, Mokuba spotted the green-haired pop icon Esparoba with his uncannily identical younger brothers. This made the young Kaiba twist in his place in excitement.

"Big brother, I want to get Esparoba's autograph!" he exclaimed fervently, searching his pockets for a pen.

Seto rolled his eyes. "I believe we are in Isis' book signing event, not in some teen fans' day, Mokuba."

"But this opportunity rarely happens!" Mokuba protested. "I might as well grab it!"

"Mokuba, if this were an opportunity, then I'll gladly miss it for as many lifetimes it can get."

Mokuba scowled, his small lips pouted. "Fine…killjoy…"

"Just think of Isis' signature instead. It's what you came for in the first place," Seto helpfully supplied. He wanted to get this event all done so he could go home, and stay away from everyone else.

"Hmm…" Mokuba's blue-gray eyes raked through the dense crowd for a sign of the writer, but there wasn't any of her in sight. Heck, photos of Isis were extremely hard to come by, as the authoress seemed to be keen on getting away from the media. And with the volume of guests so huge, Mokuba's chances of finding the writer would be next to none.

Meanwhile, Seto loosened the knot of his tie, feeling the apparent discomfort despite the custom-made features of his tailored Armani suit. Suddenly, he felt all eyes stare more ominously at him, regarding him as if he were a rare specimen only recently discovered.

"Well, well, well! What do we have here?" a voice said from behind him. Seto spun around and saw a small group of middle-aged women in their mink coats and fur eyeing him with unflattering and blatant interest.

"Good evening, ladies," Seto murmured half-heartedly, bowing down courteously. This simple gesture elicited excited giggles from the ladies, who seemed to be acting like love-smitten schoolgirls. Seto fought the urge to snort derisively, and instead forced a thin-lipped smile. He may not be a sociable person, but at least he knows how to keep things respectful at a civil level.

"Why good evening, Mister Seto…" one woman purred seductively at him. Seto could feel his eyebrow threatening to shoot upward at the mention of his first name; only his younger brother calls him by that name. And not only that, the woman was obviously trying to get on his good side as well. Seto politely took a step backward to put as much space as he can away from her. _'God, this lady is old enough to be my grandmother,'_ he thought, appalled at the very idea that these women were planning to do something unholy to him. Seto couldn't blame himself for being too skeptic of these people. After all, he **_is_** a Kaiba, and a rich, young Kaiba at that. Rich people nowadays tend to expand their horizons even further, stretching the full extent of their pockets by "investing" on a network of potential friends with just as much money as them. And his late father has long invested on that. This would undoubtedly explain why Seto was once engaged to a daughter of a big-time and high-ranking military officer many years back, despite Seto's protests. Then, shortly after his old man's untimely death, the new CEO of the Kaiba Corporation cancelled the engagement, wrath of his dead father be damned.

Though this group didn't seem to be focused on getting Seto to marry one of them, Seto could sense that they wanted him to be in that so-called network of friends. Which was why he never liked social gatherings like this – people are bound to see him for how large his wallet his, and in the more likely scenario, how he could be a profitable venture for them. Times like these, he wouldn't take any chances, regardless if there were any good and honest people left in this planet.

"So what brings you here to this event?" another one asked. "A fan of Miss Isis?"

"That would be my younger brother," he replied, glaring momentarily at Mokuba, who was now trying hard to stifle his laughter. "I'm here to accompany him."

"Oh, so you must be Mokuba Kaiba!" a third woman exclaimed, bending down to gaze at the other Kaiba.

"Er… hi?" Mokuba waved uncertainly.

"Oh how cute!" the lady clapped her hands appreciatively, then proceeded to hold Mokuba's long hair, which was now tied in a braid. "My, what long hair you have, my boy!"

The other women briefly abandoned their posts around Seto and hovered around Mokuba instead.

Mokuba smiled and laughed nervously as every woman circling him pinched his cheeks and toyed with his braid. He looked wildly at Seto, sending more or less a distress signal to his older sibling.

Seto dutifully went to the rescue. He cleared his throat promptly, causing the women to stop, standing up once more with a tinkle of small laughter in their lips. "Forgive us, Mister Seto, your brother is such an adorable creature!" one remarked, ruffling Mokuba's hair, causing the latter to frown surreptitiously.

The elder Kaiba would love to disagree with the ladies about Mokuba being adorable – he was anything _but_ adorable – but he just didn't have the mood to carry on another minute with them. Time to end the conversation.

"Ladies, my brother and I should go," he started. "We –"

"I think my brother needs to use the toilet," Mokuba said at once, grinning foolishly at the group. Seto shot him an icy glare, which the latter totally disregarded. Mokuba is the only the person who can throw off the infamous "Kaiba Look" without batting an eyelash, and not act the least bit unnerved at all.

More peeling laughter from the ladies. "Oh I see! Call of nature!" one said merrily.

Seto bowed once more, and made a move to leave, but was stopped almost soon, when one of the women handed him something.

"My card, Mister Seto," she smiled, flashing her million-dollar smile (which was probably true; the dentist must've charged her a lot just to get that unnatural glint in her smile). "In case you need anything…" then she winked.

__

'Gag,' Seto vomited in his thoughts. No sooner after that, the other women began digging into their purses, pulling out their most impressive calling cards. Seto stared disbelievingly as one of them proceeded to kiss the card before giving it to him, the lipstick contrasting starkly with the beige color of the cardboard.

He once more forced a smile and bade them good evening, both he and Mokuba quickly turned their heels and went to the opposite direction.

"You could've said I'm potty-trained as well!" Seto quipped sarcastically, clearly pissed off at the pathetic alibi Mokuba made up a while ago.

"Remind me to say that next time," his younger brother replied, in between fits of stifled laughter.

They continued to wean their way away from most of the crowd, both aiming for the corners or to some nearby hole, whichever comes first. Yet they haven't even gotten a good deal of distance from the women, when this time, a group of men managed to block their progress.

"Good evening, Mister Kaiba," a man greeted.

Both Seto and Mokuba groaned.

----------

Karimu peeked through the thick velveteen curtains briefly before closing it once more. "That's a lot of guests downstairs," he remarked. "Care to take a look?"

Ishizu stood up from her seat slowly, Mahado stood next to her, watching with concern in his face.

"Are you sure you are all right?" he asked.

Ishizu nodded silently and gave him a reassuring smile. "I am fine."

"Tell me, Ishizu, what do you see?" Shada asked almost suddenly, his face slightly covered in shadows.

The priestess' hand unconsciously went to the necklace perched on her neck, twinkling benevolently. She closed her eyes and sighed. "It is uncertain, my friends. The Necklace only shows us so little. It is hard to tell…"

"Is he even here in the first place?" Mahado spoke. "Perhaps he is not among the mortals. This attempt to lure him might only be a futile plan. I –"

"We should not despair!" interrupted Ishizu firmly, feeling her small fists clench tightly. Mahado was a bit surprised at the former's sudden outburst, and saw the unwavering sapphire eyes of the priestess.

Then Ishizu lowered her head, sighing once more. "We cannot abandon all hope, Mahado."

"Hope? Ishizu, we have exhausted all that hope for more than a thousand years, and still we find no Sekheth!" Mahado said sharply as he wearily shook his head. "Surely you realized that there is no point – no sense – in this search, and that we are getting nowhere out of this!"

"Then if you see this as unwise, you are free to step down!" her limpid eyes flashed with more determination, casting her gaze not only to Mahado, but also to the rest of the priests. "If it means that I have to do it alone, then so be it!"

There was a long and troubled silence. The other priests shifted guilty looks, all of them had their heads bowed down, avoiding the woman's piercing gaze.

Then, almost suddenly, Ishizu gasped.

----------

Atem walked and walked. He'd let his feet do the thinking and allowed himself to wander off. He pondered on many things - of his encounter with Mai, of the numerous questions, of Sekheth…

Then he felt something lingering in the air – anticipation it seemed, and it was near him. Atem rounded on a corner, and found himself staring at a heavily-lit building, along with a huge crowd of people swarming around the establishment.

__

Humans.

The prince wistfully stared at the spectacle of lights and sounds; cheery voices floated up and seemed to reach him from where he stood. He could feel his lips twitching upward in a detached and sad smile. And then, for a single moment, he had a sudden flash of understanding.

For some reason, he felt like he _needed _to be there. Atem could not fathom why, or how it happened, but his head was as clear as ever, now devoid of its lethargic state. The Puzzle vibrated knowingly, as if it were some sort of mystical magnet detecting something. Purposefully, he walked towards the cobbled path, thinking of nothing else.

---------

By the time Seto and Mokuba reached the buffet table (which was located at the edge of the vast hall, unfortunately for both of them), the younger Kaiba's cheeks were swollen with too much pinching, and his hair a total tangle of hopeless mess. He had been smiling for God-knows-how-long that his muscles were so numb with pain that it refused to do anything else but…smile.

"Mokuba, wipe that silly smile off your face," pointed Seto, who seemed to be in a lot of problems as well. His pockets were practically bulging with calling cards from virtually everyone who attended in this convention. Now he has to discard these somewhere; his blue eyes scanned the hall for any sign of a trashcan.

"I…can't…" Mokuba massaged his cheeks, trying to get them to frown. "Whoever said that 'it takes 17 muscles to smile and 34 to frown' is one big liar." 1

Seto was still busy looking for a trash bin or a guest's wine glass to dump the calling cards, when his eyes met someone else's in the crowd. He turned the other way at once. Mokuba, never missing anything, caught his brother's unease, and smiled.

"Oho, it's Miss Amelda!" he exclaimed, as he sniggered.

"Let's get out of here," Seto muttered hurriedly, steering his brother away. He stole a quick glance back at Amelda, and saw her glaring at him malevolently still, as if wishing him to get killed by her withering look.

"So she's still sore about that cancelled engagement," 2 Mokuba triumphantly said, comprehension dawning in his face. "You didn't tell me she was wholly upset about it!"

"It's not my fault I don't like her," he answered coolly. "Besides, I don't think you need to hear the details from me…" his voice trailed off, as Seto remembered the "biggest celebrity scoop in the history of Domino", where he politely called off their engagement through a dinner-for-two. He never anticipated that the hopeful Amelda brought the media with her (in clandestine, of course), thus letting the whole country witness the termination of the proposed union, as well as the crunchiest slap on Seto's face courtesy of the angered female. The press was in a state of cloud nine that time, especially when a certain channel managed to snag the exclusive interview of Amelda, where she hissed vehemently in front of three million television sets that she will kill Seto in any way possible. Fortunately for the CEO, he's still in one piece, but he was never safe from public scrutiny after that. The news spread like wildfire, even reaching foreign shores, as evidenced when an American consultant once approached Seto and asked him if the slap hurt. The blue-eyed businessman turned down their business deal at once.

"Yeah well, I think –" Mokuba started to comment, but stopped when the lights suddenly dimmed as a huge spotlight focused on a velvet curtain on a balcony. Voices hushed instantly, all eyes stared unblinkingly. The curtains opened; a veiled woman walked out, bathed in the glow of the yellow light, followed by three men. The audience held its breath.

Mokuba seized his brother's arm and squeezed it excitedly. "It's her, big brother!"

Seto looked up at the pedestal._ 'Isis.'_

----------

The crowd cheered as Ishizu stepped forward, meeting her fans for the first time. She smiled kindly at them, but inside her, she felt off, her mind somewhere far away.

__

The Necklace had just given her a vision a while ago.

Yet it didn't make sense. The Sacred Tauk would always give her snippets of future events, but tonight, it gave her something else. It lasted for a few seconds, and only comprised of a photograph-like projection.

__

It was an intersection.

A hand rested on her shoulder. She looked briefly behind and saw Mahado gazing at her. She nodded reassuringly. _'What could that possibly mean?'_ she thought.

An intersection…

"Here's the writer we've all been waiting for!" an announcer's voice boomed over the speakers. "Author of more than a dozen vampire novels – all bestsellers in their own right – and is a creator of a totally new universe… I bring you the beautiful Isis Ishtar!"

Generous claps greeted her once more.

Yet confusion clouded Ishizu's mind.

----------

"Okay, you've seen her, let's go home," Seto said impatiently as he turned to the exit.

"WHAT? I haven't had her autograph yet!" Mokuba cried. "If we leave now, I totally missed the purpose of attending here!"

"Why don't you take a good look at the people lined up to see her?" his older brother vaguely waved his hand to the visitors.

Mokuba saw his brother's point, but ignored it. "Well, I don't care," he huffed defiantly. "I'll still get her signature, no matter what!" He tugged his brother with surprising force and dragged Seto towards the authoress.

__

'It's times like this my brother needs to exercise his status as a Kaiba,' Mokuba said in his thoughts, looking hopefully at Seto so that the elder might take a hint and help him at least.

A minute passed. The older Kaiba didn't stir.

Another minute went by. Seto folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently.

Roughly ten minutes have passed. Mokuba was starting to get desperate, and his brother wasn't doing _anything _about it and was being virtually useless at the moment.

"Mokuba, aren't you supposed to have your books signed?" Seto asked, noticing the stack of books now perched on his younger brother's arms. Then he scowled. "I confiscated your books, didn't I? Then why –"

But black-haired Mokuba wasn't paying any attention. _'It's a do-or-die situation!' _his mind screamed.

Then without warning, Mokuba started to wail.

"I WANT TO MEET HER SO BADLY!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He began to throw his books around; most of the people started noticing him. He smiled inwardly. _'Perfect.'_

Seto, on the other hand, was totally thrown off at his brother's outburst. One minute, his brother was perfectly sane, and the next minute, Mokuba was acting like a deranged lunatic.

"What's wrong with you, Mokuba?" Seto hissed silently, bending down in time to see a victorious look pass by the younger Kaiba before it disappeared.

"I WANT TO SEE MISS ISIS!!"

----------

A few people looked away from Ishizu. There was unmistakably someone screaming the writer's name.

"Who's that?" Karimu wondered aloud. Cameras focused away from the author, all of them had the same question as Karimu's.

"It's a child…" Ishizu said. She felt the Necklace vibrating on her neck. This confused her more. Sacred items can feel the other Item's presence, yet it was responding somewhat differently tonight. The other priests sensed it as well and were just as perplexed as the priestess. They approached slowly.

The crowd parted before Ishizu. Her silent eyes fell on the crying form of a child with long black hair tied in a braid. Her eyes softened as she knelt in front of him. Ishizu has always been fond of children, something that deeply saddened her greatly, thousands of years ago.

"Is there something troubling you?" she said in a clear, soothing voice, and placed her hand on the jet-black locks.

The boy looked up at her, the tears brimming up his blue-gray eyes. "Miss Isis!" he said, his eyes hardly believing what he's seeing. This made the priestess smile genuinely for the first time in a long while.

Then suddenly the boy was lifted up by someone else. "I'm sorry for the behavior my little brother displayed," said a cold voice.

Ishizu shook her head. "It's nothing," she replied. "A child is a child. They cannot deny their feelings. It is quite understandable, Mister…?" She looked up and saw a pair of startlingly familiar blue eyes.

"Seto Kaiba," the man replied.

Ishizu's eyes widened.

__

"Sekheth?"

****

-----To Be Continued-----

****

Author's Notes: **1** I don't know if I got the exact number right for how many muscles it will take a person to frown, but I'm pretty sure that it takes a lot less to smile than to pout. Hehe, though I must admit, smiling can be pretty tiring, especially if you're trying to do that all day long. I can easily remember my experience with that! :D

****

2 Ahahahaha! So I decided to put Amelda for a bit of cameo appearance! Amelda is a character from the Doom Organization Arc of Yu-Gi-Oh, which takes place after Battle City. In the series, she hates Seto with all her guts, even though Seto has nothing to do with her life being destroyed. If you're watching the current series in your place, consider yourself lucky! Cartoon Network here in our country boasted an "All New Series" which turned out to be the Battle City Arc, which frustrated me a bit because I've watched that already… But what the heck, the replay value was too much for me not to miss! I mean, I just LOVE the voice artists who unknowingly inject yaoi-induced lines into the characters! Take this line said by Seto Kaiba for example: **"Yugi is the only worthy rival I ever ever have…" **The reiteration of 'ever' was too much for my yaoi mind! ((faints)) XD

Here's another line from Kaiba again: **"Do you feel the same way when you duel with me, Yugi?" **Whoaaaa… O.o ((faints again)) There's lots more, I SWEAR!! ((grins)) You got any memorable quotes from YGO? Tell me all about it! I'm feeding on them right now! XD

Yeah! Another chapter done, and it took me the LONGEST TIME to finish it! Please forgive me!! But I'll update a lot faster now, since I'll be having more free time than usual, plus the story's picking up…I think… :D

As for the drawings I promised…since I lost all my files, I'm back to having them scanned (I don't have a scanner, unfortunately) somewhere. It won't take long; so wait for it!! ((thumbs up))

Again, I need your reactions and sentiments! Drop me a line, a paragraph, a poem, a sonnet, or anything! Feed me your reviews! REVIEWWWW XD

So what's next on Chapter Seven? After six chapters, Atem gets to meet Seto! Well, it was supposed to be in this chapter, but I ended up writing it longer than I intended to. At least that's something to look forward to! And there's a lot more too! SO STICK WITH ME! X3

That's it! Thanks a lot and Rock On! ;P


	7. Intersection

**Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine**

**Author's Notes:** ((Mooguri Klaine sees readers holding knives and pitchforks)) Ehehehehe… ((nervous laugh)) Uhm… do forgive me for that ending in Chapter Six… I couldn't think of any way to end it, so I thought, 'Why not a cliffhanger?' Your reviews were spectacular, albeit scary and threatening! I LOVE IT! XD Keep 'em coming! :D

To **Elusia**: Yes, I always thought that the YGO series and manga were too stingy with the Kaiba brothers, so I really enjoyed planting a comedy routine every time these two are available! And… ((blush)) you totally melted my heart when you wrote that this (Young Blood) is turning out to be one of your all-time fave YGO stories! ((blushes some more)) Thanks for that! So I hope I won't let you guys down! ((thumbs up))

To **Faith, the uke Seto gal**: Nice assessment, Faith! You really had me impressed! ((nods happily)) And that anticipated meeting you were talking about…it will surely come to pass! Yes, and school's really a bummer! I still need to make my term papers! Darn! But we shall not yield! WE SHALL SUCCEED! XD I'll keep in touch again!

To **Misoka**: Yes, send vampire Yami after them! ((cackles evilly)) Nevertheless, thanks for finding this chapter okay! Needless to say, the new Chapter Six was better than the deleted one :D But I still haven't forgiven the cursed perpetrator called the computer technician! XD

To **Nachzes****-Black Rider**: ((Mooguri Klaine stops Nachzes-Black Rider from destroying random things)) New Reviewer! Welcome to Young Blood! I shall never let you go!! XD ((hugs Nachzes really tight)) And you've also read Merry-Go-Round and Against Protocol! I'm so happy! Arigatou for that! XD

To **swtdreams07**: Oooppsss… sorry for that cliffhanger! ((bows down)) But hey…that wasn't so bad… a cliffy would do wonders for anything! Hehehe…

To **silver dragongurl**: Oho! An unsatisfied reader! Ehehhe… your outburst was just…priceless! XD

To **Minor Arcana**: Thanks again for that review! Whoa…and your fic…it's growing and growing! I must review at once! And yeah, your drawing's almost done! XD

To **Allya**: New reviewer! Thanks for that! I do hope you received that gift art I promised!

To **Demon**: And another new reviewer! Uhm… one thing though…what's your e-mail add? XD

Oh, oh, oh! I'm currently working on another story, entitled **Against Protocol**, another YGO AU (Alternative Universe) fic about secret agents, guns, and Seto/Yami! Check it out, if you please! I'd love to hear from you! :D

**Disclaimer**: Seven chapters long, and I still have to repeat myself that I DO NOT OWN YU-Gi-Oh. Ouch. It really hurts (and sucks), knowing that there are some things in life that you can never have! ((sobs)) My dad told me a saying once: "You can't have your cake and eat it too…" And I innocently replied: "But it was my cake, I should have all the right to eat it!" I received a whack in the forehead after that, then he snorted: "Idiot." Pff, honestly! Darn grown-ups…I swear… (But we'll eventually become adults…Oh no…((groans)))

**Warning**: Shonen-ai. Yaoi. Seto/Yami. Mooguri Klaine. Don't like 'em? WHY? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! Waaa… ((goes to a corner and cries))

**Rating**: R, I think, for language and violent stuff that will eventually unfold in this story of mine. And also…MIND-BLOWING FOREPLAY AND SEX! ((looks suspiciously around)) Hehe…oooppsss…I think I said too much… ((sweatdrops))

**Summary**: The Necklace delivers a cryptic vision to its beholder, the priestess Ishizu. What could an intersection mean in the grand scheme of things? Lame summary. Argh. READ, REVIEW, AND RECEIVE A PRIZE! XD

**----------******

**Chapter Seven: Intersection******

(A/N: Read also my other YGO fic entitled 'Against Protocol', onegaishimasu (please)! Tell me what you think of it! XD

And oh yeah, email addies for new reviewers! Drawings for you! XD)

"Sekheth?"

"Excuse me?" Seto raised an eyebrow, confused. He felt the stares of everyone on him and authoress. Even the cloaked men surrounding Isis were giving him a strange look…

…as if they knew him…

"Sekheth, is that you?" the writer called him that name once more, her pale eyes seemed trembling with suppressed feelings.

Mokuba –who has now abandoned his tantrum – stared from Isis to his brother, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, Miss Isis, you must've mistaken me for someone else," Seto replied.

----------

"Sekheth, is that you?" Ishizu felt her heart pounding in her ears, so intense that she could've sworn that everyone around her could hear its sheer intensity.

Sekheth, the man they have been relentlessly searching for over three millennia, the unwashed commoner from the city of Kemet, the ancient throne of the imperial Pharaoh. (1) Sekheth, the simple mortal whom Pharaoh Atem have loved, and still does to this day, the sole reason that the sovereign fled under their protective wings to find him.

Sekheth, the Prince's _neb ma'atra.__ (2)_

Finally here. After so long a time…

Ishizu blinked for a moment, not daring herself to close her eyes too long lest this was all an illusion or a mere hallucination. Fortunately, Sekheth still stood in front of her, wearing a perplexed look reflected by his all-too-familiar cerulean eyes.

Mahado looked at Sekheth for the first time in thirty centuries. Thirty centuries have passed, the priests have walked on earth and with their ageless eyes, they witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of mortals, and myriad of events that changed the course of human history. And with that long a time that elapsed, the image of the young man was as still clear as ever, burning like fiery symbol etched on his lasting memory.

There was no doubt that many physical characteristics have been altered and changed, but there were still a lot of signs that convey that the mortal is Sekheth._ 'Cloaked in a different form, yet still the same. Such irony,_' Mahado said in his thoughts. The "new Sekheth" was pale – starkly different from the tan skin of his previous incarnation, his once-unkempt chocolate-brown hair now short and tidy. The new vessel was just as tall as the last time, but there was a strange way that the new Sekheth held himself – it was proud and aloof – a far cry from the humble and warm aura from the other, scores of years back.

And his eyes – the blue tinge, startling and unusually bright. Yet this new Sekheth had his glazed over like ice, piercing and emotionless orbs staring out ominously. Now Mahado was beginning to doubt._ 'Could this be truly Sekheth?'_

"I'm sorry, Miss Isis, you must've mistaken me for someone else…"

Ishizu's eyes widened momentarily. 'He doesn't recognize us?' A thousand reactions went zooming in the priestess' mind, so many she can't even grasp where to begin. Yet she remained her calm despite this. Willing her voice that almost seemed to abandon her, she asked,

"Your name…"

----------

"Seto Kaiba…" murmured Seto in reply. He noticed the hopeful glimmer in the woman's eyes vanished instantly. The woman sighed.

"Of course. I should've known," she said as she shrugged, more to herself than to Seto. "My apologies."

Seto managed a simple nod. Mokuba was still in his older brother's arms, totally clueless, but was wise enough not to butt in adults' discussion.

"I must go…" the authoress announced all of a sudden. A huge groan answered her, coupled with voices from the press and swift clicks from their cameras. She turned around and walked away, flanked by other veiled men and the mob of paparazzi hot on their heels. Seto saw a veiled man regarding him curiously, and gave him one last look before finally turning away.

"I say, that was most unfortunate," came a voice behind his back.

Seto spun around and found himself face to face with a man in his early thirties, long platinum-silver locks spilled on his shoulders carelessly. Even the languid voice was not too hard to guess.

"Maximillian Pegasus."

----------

"I think I'm dreaming," Karimu muttered, still struck with a mixture of confusion and awe. He looked at Ishizu, hoping to get an answer that can explain what he had seen.

"That man is Sekheth, is he not?" Shada spoke, shattering the long silence that lingered in the group. Beyond the heavy oak doors, few activities buzzed outside as the media relayed their reports to their cameras, bringing along with them the surprised reactions from the authoress' fans. Hardly anyone believed that the writer fled almost at once, even before the ribbon-cutting ceremony. To Ishizu, it did not matter to her at that moment – there is a matter of higher importance.

"Yes, the man looks uncannily like Sekheth," Ishizu began, her brows furrowed. "But it is still uncertain…"

"Is this what you saw in your Necklace a while ago?" Mahado asked. "Tell us what you saw." Karimu and Shada looked up curiously.

As the holder of the Sacred Tauk, it is in Ishizu's prerogative to decide whether or not to disclose her foresight to the other priests. To the priestess, she felt that it was still against her will to reveal the vision, for she herself did not understood any of it. The intersection meant hardly any sense to her. But one thing was for sure…

…the Necklace did not give any hint of the arrival of Sekheth.

_Why?_

"The Necklace…it did not tell me of Sekheth…" came her quiet reply.

"What?!" Mahado stood up suddenly at the answer, apparently surprised. Even the other priests weren't able to stop themselves from doing the same thing. "The Necklace –"

"Yes, this Sacred Item gives its bearer visions of crucial and major events that shall come to pass…"

"But I don't understand; finding Sekheth is our ultimate goal - one that we have worked so hard to attain for more than centuries! The Necklace should've given you –"

"But it didn't." Ishizu interrupted. She shook her head wearily, trying as she might to get rid of the confusion that was starting to haze her otherwise-perceptive mind, but to no avail.

"Then what was it that the Sacred Item made you see?" Shada asked.

No matter how much Ishizu wanted to keep the vision to herself for the meantime, she decided against it. Right now, she did not want anything more than to throw some light on the recent events. And so she told them.

----------

"I have been hearing a whole deal from many business clients, and the press does seem to take a liking to you, I believe. But this is my first time to meet you personally."

Seto nodded in acknowledgement. "Indeed. The same goes for me, Mister Pegasus," he courteously replied.

Pegasus waved a hand carelessly. "Oh, formalities are hardly necessary. 'Pegasus' would suffice."

Not knowing what to respond, the brunet nodded again. Truthfully, his mind was wandering off to where the oak doors stood, where the revered authoress fled to after seeing him. He was at a loss of words, to put it bluntly. He could've sworn that for one wild moment, Isis looked as if she knew him all along – like meeting an old friend for the first time in a long while at the most unexpected place. Seto also felt that the other hooded men knew him as well. He thought that he was quite a social icon himself; naturally, people will instantly recognize him for who he is. Who wouldn't? But that was he thought at first.

Until the woman called him a name._ "Is that you, Sekheth?"_

"Yes, Mister Pegasus." The older Kaiba brother heard Mokuba reply, but not really hearing it altogether. But he didn't mind; he allowed his younger brother to converse with the businessman.

Sekheth. Sekheth. He had never heard of that name before. Unless his late parents gave him that name without telling him…but that was totally illogical. Seto knew fully well that his whole name just plainly consisted of two words: Seto Kaiba. That's it. God, he didn't graduate with full honors at a prestigious university without actually knowing his full name.

"It's nice to see that you're a fan of the authoress, Mokuba boy…"

So what was left to deduce for Seto (and this made better sense too) was that it was all a case of mistaken identity. Perhaps Miss Isis knew a certain Sekheth that resembled him at some aspects. After all, there's a good few billion people walking in this world; there is a possibility, after all.

Unless he had a clone. Seto snorted silently at this; now that _was _stupid.

Feeling relieved at some point, he pushed the thought away to the back of his mind, though an unsettling feeling was still left to gnaw into his consciousness. Isis looked so sure that he was Sekheth – it was disturbing.

_'What the hell. I'll think of it later. All the deduction is wearing me out.' _Exhaling a frustrated sigh quietly, Seto joined in the conversation.

----------

Atem curiously watched the humans from a small distance. A lot of lights still glimmered every so often, and tinkles of appreciative laughter from various people lingered in the cool night air. Judging from their garments, the prince could draw a conclusion that some sort of event and formal banquet was taking place.

_'After all this time, humans still act uncannily the same, even after a long time has passed,' _he said to himself. He strained his eyes to look past the glare of lights, and into what lay beyond the tall, lavish doors.

A flicker of hope ignited in his heart, lighting up, as would a merry fire can do wonders to cold and shivering hands. There may be a chance – a possibility – that he could be there…

_Sekheth_

His eyes widened in anticipation, as he felt his feet edge forward to meet the merry crowd of humans. A genuine smile broke free in his somewhat-taut features. But before he could draw close to a human, he stopped abruptly. Sadly, he shook his head.

As much as he'd want to join in with them, he could not. Hesitance and uncertainty held him back – for he is a vampire, a creature to be feared, after all. Mingling with them was simply just out of the question. The hopeful feeling in him abandoned him, and was now filled by a futile sense of loneliness and dread.

Atem consoled himself as he gazed longingly at the mortals before him.

----------

"I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!!"

Seto now wished he brought along a pair of earplugs with him. Mokuba was seemingly engrossed in screaming his head off inside the car, and was just as intent on not stopping any time soon. (The older Kaiba sent the limousine away, and ordered one of his cars to be brought instead. Seto suddenly decided he wanted to drive home.)

"I WAS THERE! RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER EYES! SHE EVEN PATTED MY HEAD!" The younger sibling made wild gestures with his hands as he stood defiantly on the car seat. Seto was eyeing Mokuba's shoes disapprovingly – he was stepping on expensive black leather seats.

"BUT DID I GET HER SIGNATURE? NO SIR, I DIDN'T!" Mokuba was now quivering with anger and regret as he embraced his books tightly, as if opting to never let them go.

"I wonder why…" Seto started, heaving a sigh as he did so.

----------

A sudden draft rattled the shattered windowpanes of a forlorn warehouse. There was little light glowing inside the decrepit structure, and along with it, the slow grunts and growls from a number of people.

Bakura observed the ongoing renovation from an electric post outside the building. He sniffed. "Ah, the residual flow of the Shadow…" he murmured, flicking out a finger as if tracing the waves of invisible energy on paper. "Atem seemed to be losing his cool quickly than I gave him credit for…"

His coffee-brown eyes landed on the broken-down bar and what was left of it. Numerous parts of the walls were badly cracked, along with pieces of equipment, which fared a lot worse. There was quite an impressive damage on the exit doors of the place – Bakura believed that it was the other lesser vampires that did it, while scurrying away with their lives. This made him let out a derisive snort. "You should've finished them off, all of them, the stinking lot…"

He sniffed again. "Half-bloods are such disgusting filth, don't you think, Marik?"

A shadow slinked from an electric pole not too far away from Bakura. A figure emerged. "How did you –?"

"I smelled a stinky half-blood rat; you're not particularly hard to miss," the white-haired vampire chuckled in reply. "You've been following me for two days now, tracing my progress from the skyscraper…"

Bakura proceeded to face the Egyptian vampire. "Needless to say, I am getting really pissed off…" his voice trailed off menacingly, as he twirled his fingers, a small Shadow orb pulsing gently.

Marik glared his purple eyes at the thief. "Stop flattering yourself, for I am not following you."

"Aha! Orders from the First Brood to track down and find the runaway prince, is it not?" The robber flipped his tousled hair nonchalantly over his shoulder. Then he raised his head up in mock concentration. "No, let me rephrase that. How about, 'Beat Bakura to finding Atem before he starts telling the prince about what really happened to his mortal'? Was that better?"

"You spout nothing but deception and lies; your words are poison to –"

"Ah, quit talking in literary gibberish, Marik," Bakura interrupted. "New age, new times. Hasn't anyone told you about that?"

"Shut up," Marik retorted.

"Now that's more like it," the thief sneered. "But I do feel offended about you branding me a liar…"

"Because it's true."

"Correction, Marik," Bakura held up a hand to silence the sandy-haired vampire. "If there's someone you should call a liar, it's your sister, not me. I happen to be an honest man in search for the prince befuddled by your sister's lies. Frankly, I was doing you guys a favor. And –"

Whatever Bakura had to say next, he stopped just in time to dodge a Shadow blast that was directed at him.

"Oi, that was uncalled for, you jerk! I'm not finished talking yet!" pale-haired Bakura exclaimed in surprise and fury.

"Don't you dare insult my sister, you bastard!" Marik's lavender eyes glinted with anger, as he threw himself at the other vampire with all his might.

Bakura cracked his knuckles pleasantly, amusement in his slanting eyes. "So you finally decided to take a one-way trip to hell, huh?"

"Allow me to give it to you!"

----------

Mokuba was still fuming when he grudgingly took a seat, apparently tired from all his shouting. Seto decided to cheer his brother a little when he decided to take a detour to a nearest Mac Donald's, the said restaurant being the younger Kaiba's favorite (3). His little brother's mood improved quite a notch when he opted to order practically everything in the menu list. The bill was huge, but it was nothing the CEO couldn't handle. He was disapproving of something else though: fast food stuff equals one huge gunk of grease, cholesterol, and fat.

The younger sibling bit into his Big Mac with gusto. His free hand strayed to a big clump of French fries, and plucked out three sticks. Seto watched in silent awe (not to mention disgust) as his brother ate in silence, all the while murmuring things like "signature", "stupid", and "why didn't I get it". He didn't quite grasp that his younger brother had an appetite of a monster.

"You've been staring at me since the past minute," Mokuba blurted out; this time he was submerging himself on a Quarter Pounder (traces of the Big Mac were nowhere to be seen). "There's still a lot more of this stuff; help yourself."

Seto quirked an eyebrow briefly at hapless mess strewn on the car seat – chicken nuggets, cheeseburgers, fish fillet, and other greasy delicacies – before turning away to face the window. "No thanks," he replied. But he had to admit, his stomach was gurgling a bit. He hasn't had a single bite since lunch.

_'That's it; I want coffee,'_ he thought as he rounded a corner leading to a nearest Starbucks.

----------

Atem walked aimlessly again, all the more feeling dread and sadness swelling inside him. His previous trip only made him more lonely and detached from everyone. And his deep longing for Sekheth weren't helping matters.

In truth, he was starting to despair. All this time, the thought of finding the blue-eyed mortal once more was what that kept him alive – the single strand of hope he continually clung on. Yet it was starting to shatter – bit by bit – as the days and nights dragged on.

Where could Sekheth be? The prince assessed that he can be virtually anywhere; there must be a few more thousand cities dotting the world. And perhaps Sekheth would be cloaked in a different form, if he were indeed reborn into this world once again. He could be in another guise – what they might be, the young sovereign could only guess. His heart sank even deeper.

And if he were to find Sekheth, then what would happen? Would Sekheth recognize him right away? Would there be any traces left of the past memory they both had? How would the "new Sekheth" react if he were to be told of who he once was?

"Ra, does he even want to see me?" Atem murmured aloud. He stopped in his tracks and observed the night. He didn't know how much time has passed by, but it was quite certain that the emptiness of the street, give or take a few more stragglers eager to get home. A sudden wind blew around the vacant space. Atem felt extremely cold, and he knew it didn't come from the draft of air.

He sadly drew up his arms around him, hugging his lithe form tightly, wishing it were Sekheth who would be comforting him. With a heavy heart, he started to cross an intersection.

----------

Seto slid back inside the car, along with a few items he'd picked up from the coffee shop. He passed Mokuba the chocolate frappuccino the younger sibling asked for ("With lots of whipped cream, brother!" called the boy after his brother a while ago), and also a small bag of cookies. (4)

Mokuba was now happily munching the chocolate cookies when Seto turned the engine to life. His left hand on the steering wheel, the elder Kaiba blew the hot liquid in the paper cup. Smoke lifted in the air, bringing with it the smell of brewed coffee. He took a small sip, and proceeded to settle the cup on a built-in tray for glasses.

It was then when he let out a curse, wildly gripping the brakes, and brought the car to a screeching halt.

----------

Atem was thoroughly deep in thought that he did not sense a car coming his way. And when he did, his eyes widened in shock, and automatically triggered the Eye to life, as his body willed to take defense. He almost blasted the car that was careening to meet him, but thought better of it, as there were humans inside the machine.

Not a moment too soon, he pushed himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the impact by inches as he stumbled to the sidewalk and fell there with startling force.

----------

"Whoa, what was that?!" Mokuba gasped; the air was almost knocked out of him. He fluttered his eyes open, and found out to his relief, that they were still alive. One minute, he was enjoying his drink along with a handful of cookies, and the next thing he knew, the car tires screeched ominously, as he felt the car turning around suddenly and finally sidled in to a dangerous stop. His brother wouldn't have done that if there weren't someone on the road that was bound to get hit by the car.

"Did we hit someone?" Mokuba's pale blue eyes shone with fear. His question was not given an answer.

Beside him, he saw his older brother snapping seatbelts aside, throwing open the door angrily as he stepped out of the car.

"Big brother, what --?"

"Stay in the car," came his brother's icy tone.

----------

Seto was positively fuming, not having the ample time to celebrate when he managed to pull off a full 180-degree turn to save his and his younger brother's lives. 'Some stupid, fucking dunderhead found it funny to endanger everyone else's lives,' he thought angrily, pulling himself out of the car – an expensive one too. He was sure he didn't hit the suicidal git. It was a good thing too; he wanted to kill that person himself.

"Big brother, what -?" Mokuba's uncertain tone called from inside the car.

"Stay in the car," he ordered, unable to hide the anger in his voice.

Seto scanned the empty street and instantly found a figure in black gingerly standing up.

----------

"What the hell is your problem, you bastard?"

Atem blinked a few times as he got up from his crumpled state, one side of his body tingling with pain.

"If you plan to do some god-forsaken suicide, have the decency to do it somewhere away from us."

The prince's head was swimming uneasily, his eyes sliding out of focus. He willed his head to gaze upward, and he saw a peculiar vision…

_Sekheth__ was standing before him._

----------

"Are you even listening?" If Seto was fuming, now he was undoubtedly feeling impatient. He was just a few steps away from the person he almost hit – which was a he, now that he confirmed it. And upon closer inspection, it was a pale young man with vivid spiky hair donned in black leather. From the looks of it, the boy was some thrasher, undoubtedly high with drugs and narcotics.

The boy motioned his head and looked at him with a dazed look. Seto saw the person's face for the first time and noticed at once a pair of startling red eyes, which in Seto's opinion, were probably contact lenses with red tint. Yet he couldn't help but think that those carmine pools were real.

Seto noticed that the person was pale at first sight, but now, he realized that he was too pale, as if he was running out of blood. For a moment, his anger subsided, and he felt worry for the stranger.

"Are you still alive?" he found himself asking, and then realized that the man was indeed alive – he was still moving, for god's sake.

The stranger stood up and continued to stare unblinkingly at Seto, his red eyes misty and far-off. The man then moved closer to him, willing to close their distance.

"What –"

The rest of Seto's words were cut short as the young man's lips proceeded to seal his.

**----To Be Continued----**

**Footnotes: (1)** Kemet is the ancient name of Egypt, which means 'black soil', because of its fertile land.

**(2)** I thought I might want to repeat it… 'Neb ma'atra' is the Egyptian word for 'beloved'.

**(3)** Well, there's no official release as to what's Mokuba's favorite fast food, so Mac Donald's it is! Actually, it's my favorite! XD

**(4)** Also my favorite drink and munchie in Starbucks Coffee XD ((drools)) I think I want one right now… XP

**Author's Notes:** YAHOO! Chapter Seven done! And…it's a cliffhanger again…hehehe ((sweats nervously))

Now that Seto and Atem have officially met, expect the story to be in a lot of tangles. Let's not hope that my story goes downhill from this point! ((gulps)) So tell me what you think of it! I want nothing more than your enjoyment so I badly need your feedback so I could further improve this story! XD If you're willing to beta this before I post it, tell me!

Again, I'm plugging my other story, **Against Protocol**! If you have time to spare, feel free to peruse it!

I'm sending new fanart! One problem, though…it's not YGO. All my YGO stuff aren't scanned yet, and what I have are a handful of drawings from other anime, like Crush Gear Turbo… So tell me if you still want to receive it! It's my personal favorite, and I love to share it with you lovely readers! Just give me the go signal!

So what's in Chapter Eight? An intense battle between two vampires begins, and an old love awakens in the dormant heart of the Pharaoh. And a whole lot more! So stick with me! XD

Thanks a lot and Rock On!


	8. Stalker

**Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine**

**Author's Notes**: School's out for a few weeks! ((celebrates)) By the time I post this, I would've been on my third week of vacation. This chapter should've been out a lot earlier, but… ((sweatdrops)) I lazed around a LOT, most of the day spent on regaining the sleep that I so lacked from my cramming days, and the remainder of it spent on drawing (Seto/Yami of course :D), scheming devious plots to decapitate our troublesome maid ((evil grin)) (just kidding XD), and playing online games. Hehehe…gomen for that! ((bows down))

Oh yes, thanks for the reviews! ((blows a kiss)) A reader asked me what's with me and my cliffhangers… ((grins)) I don't know…I guess it happened when I was writing my chapters, my other self (eep, schizophrenia! XD) suddenly thought of "dishing out cliffhangers" as a twisted way of saying 'thanks' to the readers… ((sweatdrops)) But honestly, I couldn't think of anything creative to end a chapter, save for a cliffy… sorry 'bout that! :D

OH GOOD HEAVENS! I have something to share with you! Some weeks ago, an online friend sent me a nice YGO fanart that she picked up from somewhere… **It's Yami and Seto clad in black suits, both in a really striking pose, their faces centimeters apart from each other… waiiiiii!!! **((screams with delight)) Have you seen that work already? I'll gladly send that to you, along with my new work! Keep your e-mail addresses coming! XD

Oh, and speaking of Seto…I hope you greeted him last **October 25**, 'cause that's his birthday! **HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SETO! **If the YGO concept from Kazuki Takashi started in 1997, that would mean Seto's sixteen back then… So now he's… twenty-four? ((thinks)) Yeah, and he's a Scorpion, same as me! And yeah, speaking of me… I'm about to blow my birthday candles on the **fifth of November**! So wish me good tidings! Presents wouldn't be too bad…XD

My readers are growing in size! I love you all! ((group hug)) Individual replies for you! XD

To **Demon **– I totally sympathize with you and your school stuff, 'coz I get the same pressure as well O.o Keeping up with stories are hard for me too! (My author alerts are murdering me XD) As for Seto's reaction, you'll find this one out here in this chappy! Oh, before I forget…tell me your e-mail address… YGO drawings for ya! XD

To **I love Yami…and YAOI **– 'Love your name, girl! ;P Who doesn't love yaoi in this fandom? ((giggles)) I guess anime is not anime without the yaoi! Otherwise, it won't be fun watching YGO! XD Now's not the time to die… I've finally updated! :D Psst…do tell me your e-mail addy too! I'd love to hear from you! Thanks!

To **Lady Zephyros **– Hey, another McDonald's aficionado! ((buys Lady Zephyros burger and fries)) After what seemed to be forever, both guys have finally met! Even I am ecstatic writing this!

To **Bonita Chica **– AU fics are unique and always oozing with creative juices and ideas, so I agree with you having an apt enthusiasm for AU fics! XD As for Karimu…expect a lot from him in my other YGO fic, **Against Protocol**! Check it out! XD Your e-mail address, onegaishimasu? :D

To **Nachzes-Black Rider **– ((laughs)) Yeah, you're actually right…it's not really an official meeting ((grins)) And as for action… I'm practically slow developing this story's plot – it's starting to piss me off – so it won't build up much yet. As for sex… ((clears throat)) We will eventually come to that! XD

To **Elusia** – ((nods head)) A mean way to end chapter seven, all right, but fun nonetheless! It's a perfect albeit frustrating cliffy! XD My friend felt the same way as you did – all excited and nervous – when she neared the final part of the last chapter. She practically screamed at me on the phone when she finished reading it…hehe XD

To **Allya **– Hehe, thanks for that! Even I am thinking that I made the previous chapter's ending a lot eviler than the other one! Seto's reaction to the sudden kiss…what could it be? Read on! XD

To **Misoka **– Oh yeah, Atem kissed Seto! Whoopee! ((celebrates)) And to think they just met! I wonder what might happen when they're…getting to know each other? ((evil grin)) And thanks for trooping to Against Protocol! Though I must apologize for being so insistent… XD

To **swtdreams07 **– I keep seeing your Harry Potter fic in my author alert list…so I guess I'll troop in and see that for myself!

To **Cross Hunt-s **– Seto's reaction to the kiss is all here in this new chapter! And yeah…would it be okay to know your e-mail address? :D

To **Anzu Mazaki-chan **– ((laughs)) You're not alone when you said about idiots watching what you're doing from the back, 'coz I get the same thing at most times. My nephew's very inquisitive, so much that his curiosity is starting to get the better of him…He began asking me about my desktop wallpaper (Yami and Seto in black suits, the latter bending down to kiss Yami…waaaaiiii! XD) – hehe XD His young mind is still confused… :P Now I know what "thank you" is in German! Danke, Anke! :D

To **shadowsofchaos61 **– Thanks for loving my stories! XD I hope I won't let you down! ((thumbs up))

**Disclaimer**: What would I give to own Yu-Gi-Oh? Let's see…a few billion dollars? ((looks around for my wallet)) Sure, I think I have a few billion bucks to spare… ((sweatdrops upon seeing the wallet with just a few measly one-dollar bills)) On second thought, I might as well buy a lollipop…XD

**Warning**: I feel like repeating my warning from the previous chapter: Shonen-ai. Yaoi. Seto/Yami. Mooguri Klaine. Don't like 'em? WHY? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! Waaa… ((goes to a corner and cries))

**Rating**: R, for the language content, a violent and psychologically twisted Bakura (you'll find out why in this installment), an angry Seto, and perhaps more dirty thoughts that will eventually be shown. Watch out. :D

**Summary**: An intense battle between two vampires begins, and an old love awakens in the dormant heart of the Pharaoh. Yet Seto claims he is not who the Prince thinks he is…or is he? READ, REVIEW, AND RECEIVE A PRIZE! XD

**----------**

**Chapter Eight: Stalker**

"Neb ma'atra…" Atem found himself staring at the piercing pools of blue, as if he had found an oasis amidst the shattering mirage of an endless desert.

"This is not a mirage…" His words barely escaped his lips, fearful that the vision he is seeing might be an illusion brought about by his sheer longing for the man he loves.

Yet there was still Sekheth, standing before him like he used to, in those days when the sovereign sat on the regal throne of Kemet, at most times knelt down in reverence while he rushed to him and implore the latter to stand up.

Perhaps this vision might not be true at all. Atem had to make sure; make sure that his eyes have not betrayed him; make sure that his senses were not making him delirious; make sure that Sekheth was indeed right here, right now… Atem wanted to make sure of so many things, and that single touch will confirm either his wistful fantasy or his worst fear. And so, he dared himself as he reached out his arms to touch the image in front of him.

All doubt and apprehension the young prince felt vanished at once. His hands that sought the touch felt strong limbs beneath his palms. His heart was beating madly now in his ribs, so fast that he could've sworn his chest might rift open from the apparent effort. Sekheth was talking, saying something to him, yet he heard nothing of it. Atem felt pain no more – perhaps his fast healing ability had done its job, or perhaps he was too busy feeling a myriad of emotions to even notice it.

Yet the prince cared less for anything, so much that he wasn't aware that he was on his feet already, slowly managing his legs to approach Sekheth. His gaze never wavered; his ruby eyes fell on sapphire ones…

"Such a beautiful sight…" Atem sighed softly. His words flowed in a string of low tones; he had unknowingly reverted to his old tongue. He inched closer, eager to close the distance between them with bated breath, as each step drew him nearer to Sekheth.

"Where have you been all this time?" He saw Sekheth's mouth open in reply, yet he did not wait for any.

----------

One might think that the ensuing scene would've been perfect at any given day– of two persons standing on an empty street, sharing long-overdue kisses, while the night draws on, with the moon and stars bearing witness to the long-awaited unity of two destinies.

But to Seto, what was happening was the stuff of nightmares, for quite a number of reasons. In fact, he would lovely beg to differ. The kiss took place in a mercifully empty avenue, a place the CEO deemed suitable for robbery rather than romantic exploits, if anything. Plus, there was neither moon nor a speck of star in the inky night sky to allegedly 'bear witness'. And there was certainly no long-overdue kisses waiting to be paid; honestly, the last thing he needed was a kiss.

A kiss! He never asked for one, and he certainly didn't count on it to come from a total stranger, let alone a man!

The shock that first paralyzed Seto had finally worn off; now rage was starting to kick in his system, slowly at first, then faster, and faster, until he had managed to regain control of himself. Without any hesitation, Seto placed his palms on the intruder's chest and he pushed away roughly, breaking off the kiss. The force apparently took the young man by surprise, as he lost his balance and unceremoniously fell back on the pavement.

"You're crazy!" Seto spat angrily at him, the back of his hand wiping his mouth in an appalled manner. Too furious to say something long and insulting to the man, he let out an indignant curse as he strode off, away from the stranger that dared kiss him.

---------

Marik leapt away in time when a huge Shadow blast collided with the crumbling ground. More explosions rained down on the blond vampire as Bakura delivered blow after blow mercilessly, not even caring for damages and casualties that might occur thereafter.

"Are you going to dodge my attacks forever?" Bakura laughed scornfully as he effortlessly pulled off small orbs from his hands. "Come on and fight back!"

Almost too soon, the thief felt a strong fist solidly connecting with his jaw. The attack took him by surprise, as his body slammed hard on the brick wall; chunks of it giving away like a sodden cracker. His eyes slid out of focus for a moment, not noticing Marik approaching him with a smug look on his face.

The younger vampire stood, observing the unconscious form of the pale-haired man before him, his face almost buried in dust and rubble. Marik shrugged before turning away, relief identifiable in his pallid features; he didn't want to square off with a powerful and ancient Root wherein the odds of winning are next to none. It was pure luck that he rendered Bakura out cold.

It was then when the Sacred Weapon entrusted to him, the Scepter, glowed ominously in his hand. Marik barely had the time to react, swiveling around to meet a big Shadow orb coming his way…

Bakura laughed appreciatively at the sight of Marik's limp figure some distance away. "There's no fucking way you could deflect that attack," he remarked, nonchalantly brushing dust off his clothes as he went to where the other vampire lay. He quirked an eyebrow at the blond, an amused look slightly grazing his face. Yet his brown eyes shared none of the mirth, a hint of steel glinted in them.

"Oh…so you're still alive…" his voice trailed off before he continued, "I thought that Shadow blast sent your pathetic ass off straight to Hell…" Bakura clucked his tongue impatiently, seeing Marik struggling weakly to stand up.

Marik felt an invisible hand forcing him back on the ground. He willed his lavender eyes to look up, and saw Bakura's palm emitting a slight aura. "Telekinesis…" he blurted out wearily; the blast took out almost all out of him, his body is starting to take its toll…

"That's right, half-breed, telekinetic powers," Bakura spoke in an uncharacteristically soft voice, as if lulling the other man to sleep. "Relax, and stay still…"

"Gaaaa!" Marik shouted out in pain; the invisible force was increased greatly, to the point where his very bones were screaming in agony.

Bakura, on the other hand, was ecstatic seeing the other cringing in pain. "I hope you liked that, Marik, 'coz you're definitely going to love this one…"

With a flick of his left hand, several clumps of heavy stone bricks flew to him and hovered silently above the younger Ishtar sibling. Marik's gaze froze as he laid sight on the looming objects on top of him, his purple eyes dilating in disbelief.

"Sweet dreams."

----------

Atem did not know how long was he sitting on the cold pavement, but he did not seem to care. The car bearing Sekheth had left a long while ago; he gazed silently at the path the machine had trudged on, his eyes not leaving it even for a single moment.

His hand went unknowingly to his lips, touching gently the spot where he had proceeded to meet Sekheth's for the first time in a long, long while. He could still feel the velvety smoothness that brushed against his pale lips. His hands tingled with the sensation of intense familiarity – the same hands that reached out to Sekheth and coiled around his strong neck; the same hands that raked through the mortal's soft chestnut hair…

Atem felt he had finally met his happiness after a seemingly eternal slumber.

Until Sekheth pushed him away…

The young prince shrugged his head, now feeling frustrated with himself. "I shouldn't have done that…" Now, he had realized that things were too sudden – _he_ was too sudden, too blinded by the raging feelings erupting inside of him. It was his rash behavior that brought him in an unfavorable situation that caused Sekheth to push him and flee. Had it not for his haste, perhaps Sekheth might recognize him from a time long gone; perhaps the mortal might have understood…

His hand had indeed confirmed his wistful fantasy – to be able to see his beloved, yet along with it, his worst fear…

…that Sekheth did not remember him…

----------

Mokuba never thought he'd learn to appreciate wearing a seatbelt in the shortest time ever.

He looked at his brother, worry evident in his eyes, as the car skidded at a sharp corner. This was unprecedented; for his brother practically proceeded to break all the traffic rules he'd so willingly follow, all broken in one sitting. Mokuba used to remember how Seto disdained law-breaking types in all forms and sizes, often calling motorists "assholes", and how he was continually being drilled with lectures on "responsible driving" and "driving etiquette".

Now his brother just went past a stop signal, earning loud and irritated beeps from other cars.

_'Some example you are…'_ thought the dark-haired child, silently snorting as Seto passed through another intersection without as much as a glance on both sides.

Mokuba knew there was something wrong with his elder brother the moment he slid back inside the car. He was so sure his brother wanted to break the neck of whomever they'd almost hit, but the resolve disappeared quickly as it came. Something must've happened a while ago, causing the older Kaiba to flee like this.

"Big brother, what –" His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Seto stuffed his mouth full with tissues. Mokuba's voice abandoned him for the moment, unable to catch why his brother was doing something so… odd.

To Seto, he didn't give a damn whether he was upsetting other motorists with his driving, or if he was already breaking more than a dozen traffic rules. Right now, he was hell-bent to give as much space and distance he can away from the stranger, and in the quickest way possible. The young corporate was expecting he'd get to punch and beat up the guy for being so reckless, and he would lovingly accept that he might get a few bruises should a scuffle break out between them.

But instead, he got a kiss.

He rubbed his lips hard and persistently until the frail tissue gave way, his other hand on the steering wheel, willing the automobile to maintain its seemingly unearthly velocity. And then, an uncomforting thought eased out of his mind.

Whether the young man was on drugs or not, it was certain that he had no doubt recognized Seto from some place. Just like the authoress Isis did – the same eyes that looked like seeing a lost companion after a long, long time. All of this in one night.

_'Coincidence. Pure and utter coincidence,'_ he said in his thoughts. He did not see any connection on the similar events that took place. _'Ridiculous.'_

Yet he was consistently bothered by the sudden move the stranger did on him. No one – NO ONE – could do something like that outright to a person he'd only met and without the proper introduction to begin with. Things did not make any sense. One would kiss another _on the lips _with striking hunger and passion if they were lovers.

_Lovers._

Seto groaned. Now he was being mistaken for being some guy's lover? _'God, is this some sort of sick cosmic joke?'_

----------

"Now, now… what do we have here?" Bakura raised an eyebrow amusedly as his amber eyes laid upon a glinting metal just beside the lifeless hand of the blond vampire.

"You shouldn't leave your valuables unattended, boy," he scolded in mock concern, bending down to pick up the Scepter on the dusty ground. The gold metal was cool on his palms, the light weight of the Sacred Item almost felt like nothing. Slowly, Bakura's lips formed into a malevolent smile.

"Well, I'd say it's tough luck, losing your Item to a thief like me," he said as his eyes strayed over to where the younger Ishtar sibling lay, all covered with solid large pieces of brick. "Finders keepers, losers weepers, Marik…"

Letting out an easy laugh, Bakura toyed the Scepter and twirled it clumsily in his hand. The Sacred Items magnify the power of the Shadow, an important medium for half-vampires with little potential on sorcery. And if an Item were to fall in the hands of a Root like him – a powerful vampire born with high Shadow powers – then…

"Looks like I found myself a new best friend…"

----------

_"Ishizu, I wish to see the sun…"_

_"You cannot! Ra is unforgiving to our kind, for we are the cursed spawns of Darkness! To linger for a moment in the sun is suicide!"_

_"But did I choose to be like this detestable form?"_

_"What – "_

_"I was a mortal once, wasn't I? I did not find happiness from stealing the lives of those around me…_

_"This bloodlust is nothing more than an ill-given disease, and I want to free myself from this!"_

An empty void of black swarmed around the priestess, bringing her back from where she was – inside the humble temple below the mansion of the First Brood. She breathed heavily as the glow from her Necklace died down slowly, until there was no more, save for a slight and distant shimmer.

For many times, Ishizu searched relentlessly for any link and clue that lay inside the Necklace that might shed light on the recent events. She weaved in and out of the memories, and tried to see beyond every conversation in the past that can tell of the future.

_"I'm sorry, Miss Isis, you must've mistaken me for someone else…"_ Tonight, she and the priests met who was supposedly Sekheth, a man named Seto Kaiba.

_'Who is this mortal?'_

Ishizu received her answer almost at once, for as if on cue, she heard a knock on the door. Karimu allowed himself to enter, along with Mahado and Shada.

"I've found out who Seto Kaiba is," announced Karimu in a happy voice. "And this man is not exactly the non-famous type. I'm starting to believe we're so cut off from everybody else – "

Shada cleared his throat and looked at Karimu sharply.

"Uh…right…anyway…" Karimu sat down and fixed his eyes on the priestess. "Seto Kaiba is a prominent businessman who owns Kaiba Corporation and other companies, and is one of the prime movers of the Domino business economy.

"And you might want to know that he's a Kaiba, a well-known family since way back in the old days. I think we've met one of his early ancestors in Europe, if I'm not mistaken…Geez, it just goes to show how old we really are…

"He lives in an impressive mansion with his younger brother, Mokuba – I think it's that kid who threw a tantrum in your autograph signing – "

"What of their parents?" Mahado asked.

"Both deceased. As far as I've researched, they don't have any known close relatives, just a bunch of distant ones, which they don't bother to communicate with. Quite understandable, since they're so rich and all…

"Plus they're young! Seto's barely past twenty – twenty-one, to be exact – and that's freaking young, even for mortal standards! And to handle such a strong business empire at that young an age…" Karimu stopped for effect and looked at Ishizu expectantly, hoping to get an awestruck expression from her. Sadly, none came.

"I should see him…" the Egyptian woman stood up. The other priests exchanged looks with each other; Ishizu rarely decides to see anyone other than the priests and other servants.

"See him? What for?" Mahado asked.

"To confirm if he is indeed Sekheth…"

----------

Bakura was back atop an electric post, grinning like a maniac. He held the newly acquired Scepter like a very precious war trophy, bringing it up to the heavens as if he had won a cosmic battle. But in essence, this is precisely what the white-haired vampire felt at the moment – a real victor indeed.

For more than a millennium, he had wanted for himself the Sacred Weapons made by the vampire Pharaoh; the power in those Items represent the limitless capabilities of the Shadow, something only a powerful Root like Atem had achieved.

And Bakura desired to attain the level beyond the Prince… to reach god-like perfection.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance, the jovial mood he had an instant ago vanishing at once. He and Atem were the same – they were born as perfect beings wrought by the god Seth, possessing great power in an immortal frame not to be hampered and spoiled by time. And they were gifted with the glorious ability to kill for a life-giving substance that kept them forever anchored to the mortals' realm – the undeniable thirst for blood.

Yet is seemed that the Prince shared not what he believed. To Bakura, he was a fool – to submit himself for the love of the pathetic mortals, even continuing to love them despite the fear and scorn he received in exchange.

And Atem steadily gained power, a matter that truly angered the thief, seeing its manifestation in the form of the Seven Sacred Items. The Rod glowed benignly in his hand, the carved Eye of Ra shining even in the murky night.

"You're a fool, Your Highness," Bakura started, his brown eyes never leaving the imperious Eye on the Scepter. "Why do you mask the Shadow with the Light?

"Our power represents the might of Seth, and not of Ra…" and he continued, "Yet you adorn these weapons with His Eye…

"Idiotic Pharaoh…" He shrugged dismissively, a smirk grazing his features. It was then he sensed vampires in his immediate vicinity. An idea struck him.

"Time to test my new toy…" Licking his lips eagerly, he flew down from the post and went off.

----------

Usually, the journey from the Domino Industrial District to the Kaiba Mansion would take roughly thirty minutes, depending whether there's traffic on the thoroughfare, or if there were mandatory stopovers or detours. Normally, it would still take just as much.

Mokuba felt like the ride lasted for five minutes.

Just as his brother pulled the car into the garage, he weakly got off from it, his knees all feeling wobbly and shaken. Everything he seemed to have eaten back there – all those burgers, cookies, shakes, and sundaes – was all clamoring to get out of his system. This is bad.

"Eurgh," he started as he patted his stomach with care. "Brother, your driving skills suck. Remind me not to go with you when you're handling the steering wheel next time. I – huh?"

Mokuba was already alone in the garage.

---------

"Die, you miserable half-breed scumbag."

An inhuman shriek pierced through the night, followed by a maniacal howl of laughter. Bakura stood among the sea of bodies, strewn haphazardly like practice dummies. It would have been that way had it not for all of them swimming in their own blood, looking like a macabre picture in a thriller novel.

Some blood clung on to the sharp, axe-like edges of the Scepter, while a lot splattered on the thief; the vampire seemed to have emerged from a blood bath that even his snow-white hair appeared crimson and forbidding. Yet the man paid no mind.

On the contrary, he enjoyed the sight as if he had relived his most wonderful dream. He was beyond ecstasy, him being able to feel truly alive after so long a time. His eyes saw the groveling forms of the lesser vampires, hearing them cry for mercy; his hand moved to deliver the swift and gruesome justice fit for worms like them; his skin felt the cold wetness of blood, along with their anguished cry ringing pleasantly in his ears. It seemed like a part of a perfect concerto to him – the harmony of his victim's nightmares and his own wildest fantasies finally realized…

His fingers tingled with excitement and exhilaration. He now have a different level of power, amounts of it so strong that he could see his shimmering aura with his naked eyes, and he was giving off a soft electric pulse. He never anticipated that the Scepter had such capabilities. Bakura chortled; he realized that Marik was a weakling and was too thick to know and utilize the full potential of the Sacred Item.

The Sacred Rod was indeed something. Not only can it amplify and increase Bakura's already-strong Shadow powers, it also has the ability to brainwash and control a person or a group, whichever he desired, just as he had done some moments earlier.

"Show me more…" he breathed as he proceeded to lick the blood off the Scepter's razor-sharp edges; he had used it to gut out the throats of the vampires.

"Tell me where is the Puzzle…"

----------

Seto emerged out of the bathroom, feeling a bit better but still not quite enough. He did not waste any minute bolting up to his room as soon as he finished parking the car in the garage. From there, he brushed his mouth for so many times until his tongue turned raw with the effort, just so he could get rid of the revolting feeling. Whoever kissed him managed to leave a whole lot of unpleasant feelings for the brunet CEO.

He shook his head irritably; the last thing he needed to remember was the kiss. But his mind practically disobeyed him, for he kept on going back to that cursed moment, as much as he'd wanted to rid himself of it.

He removed his bathrobe and slipped on his blue pajamas, allowing a few buttons up undone. He busied himself a bit in his room, picking up a couple of things he'd left on the floor a while ago until he decided to look into the news for tonight. He switched the television to life, and scanned through it for a few moments, finally landing himself in the Domino News Channel. He had a feeling Isis would be among the headlines.

True enough, the newscaster was currently reporting the abrupt cancellation of the event earlier that night. Seto watched as he saw a footage taken earlier, the camera zooming in on the writer, her solemn eyes appearing troubled.

"I am very sorry, but something has come up. Please forgive me for the inconvenience." With a curt bow, she and other veiled men fled the scene.

The anchorwoman was back. "Meanwhile, the sudden change of plans puzzled a lot of the guests in the convention, particularly that of action star Tristan Taylor and some others…"

Seto clicked the remote controller to another news channel. Expecting to find the same content, he was a bit surprised to see it was different. He peaked up the volume and listened to the commentary.

"A shocking sight sweeps through the outskirts of Domino City, as a mass murder took place near a deserted street. At least more than a dozen bodies lay on the blood-soaked ground, their bodies heavily mutilated; most victims had their throats gutted out with a sharp murder weapon…" From here, Seto's blue eyes cringed involuntarily as he saw the blurred bodies caught on camera, all drenched with blood. Crime rate has been quite high in Domino City, but this is the first time he had heard and seen of such a murder this strange and bloody.

"According to the Domino Crime Department, it might have been the work of a serial killer, contrary to the belief that a group of criminals perpetrated the said killing…"

"This is the first time this kind of mass murder was done in a long while, I believe, and we are still continuing on with the investigation. However, we are advising the citizens of Domino to be wary and alert, for the murderer might strike again." Seto recognized the man to be the Chief of the Police Force speaking through the microphones.

The newscaster replaced the short video clip, and continued, "And because of this, the Isis convention was put on hold for a while, in light of the recent events, for the safety of the people. In other news, Yu-Gi-Oh the Movie earned a lot of praises as well as criticisms –" (1)

Seto turned the television off, and stared at his balcony, watching the curtains silently drifting with the wind, and the shadows made by the moon playing on the furniture. He lied down on the bed, slowly being lulled to sleep, yet his eyes never leaving the shadows outside…

He bolted upright suddenly, as if being instantly electrocuted. He just saw _something_ moving among the shadows. Seto slid the French doors open, brushing aside the curtains that fluttered to meet him. His azure eyes widened.

"What are you doing here?"

**----To Be Continued----**

**Footnotes: (1) **Yeah, YGO the Movie…Fun and interesting one…some hints at Yami/Seto-ness, of course, but a bit weird at some points… (And you rock, Pegasus! He just keeps on bringing up to the CEO about his (Seto's) ass being constantly kicked by Yugi! Priceless! XD) I just couldn't get used to the deep voice of Yami, 'cause I got accustomed to the Cartoon Network version here in our place. But, it's sweet, Yami using Seto's card at the final moments of battle with Anubis! XD Oops, I'll stop now… There might be someone who haven't watched it yet…

**Author's Notes**: Damn, I feel like I didn't do justice on this chapter; 'cause I'm currently having a hard time stringing my thoughts together, so do excuse me if some parts seemed…uh…off… I swear, my brain's not functioning like it used to. Either that, or I'm slowly losing my touch… NOOOO!!! ((wails)) I guess it's time to read a good book. Books are great sources of words, inspirations, and others! Care to suggest what book to peruse? :D

Anyway! How was it! Was it good? Was it bad? And what about the cliffhanger? I would definitely want to hear your feedbacks! I would highly appreciate whatever idea or comment you feel like saying!

Final notes! Check out also my other YGO AU fanfic, **Against Protocol**, if you have the time! I'm currently working on both of these fics at the same time, but I'm more after the fast completion of Young Blood, given that it's a bit slow on the story development. But tarry not, for I'm working on the other one as well. Gee, I think I should make a storyboard or something. Keeping all the ideas in my mind is quite hard, considering I've got a lot running around inside it. XD

For new reviewers, or those who haven't told me your e-mail address, just leave it in the Reviews Section! And add reviews too while you're at it! Meh hehehehehe!! Am I insistent or nagging or what?!

**What's in Chapter Nine? **Bakura steadily gains power from the Sacred Scepter, and looks out to the other Items from the priests, while Atem goes into retrospect, reminiscing of Sekheth. And Seto…well… he's found himself an unlikely visitor. Who could it be? Perhaps Ishizu, who wishes to confirm the existence of Sekheth? Or could it be someone else? Argh. I can't think of any catchy line to get your attention! ((sobs))

I guess that's it! STICK WITH ME!! XD

Thanks a lot and Rock On! XD


	9. Cups

**Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine**

**Author's Notes**: Adobe Photoshop first came to me as a blessing. Now I only see it as a curse. Blame it for the freaking late update. I can't help it; the program was strangely addicting! Once I started digitally coloring some of my works, I CAN'T STOP! Someone restrain me! Occasionally I've been opening MS Word to update, but I only get to enter a maximum of two sentences, then my mind just goes BLANK, and my fingers started itching for Photoshop! WAAAA!! ::wails and subjects myself to a straitjacket::

Okay, I think I'll stop giving cliffhangers, because I have a feeling that you'll kill me in more ways than one… ::sweatdrops:: I apologize for the REALLY LATE UPDATE! It's been MORE than a month, dammit! X( Against Protocol was the fist one I finished, but this one got lagged behind, because I started getting confused with some parts of the plot, therefore discouraging me from continuing. But I'm back!! That's what matters, right? ::looks around for supporters::

So who's that mystery person hanging around Seto's balcony? Read on and find out! XD

To **Sylvia Viridian **– NEW REVIEWER! ::huggles Sylvia:: Thanks for reading! So you used to not like yaoi? Hehe, don't worry, I was a yaoi-hater back then. Now look at me now! XD Yes, Prideshipping is just the best of all pairings! Makes a damn lot of sense for me, hehe.

To **Misoka **– Hmmm… is Marik dead? You'll see about that! :D I'll stop dishing cliffhangers for the time being… :D

To **Nachzes-Black Rider **– ::Mooguri Klaine's face falls:: Oh…you guys are not so fond of Pegsy? And yeah, you do have a point about him being a lousy duelist… had it not for his Eye, he'd be minced meat a long time ago! XD

To **Cross Hunt-s** – Who's in the shadows? Hehe, you'll see it here! Thanks for reading! :D

To **Ahja Reyn** – You're right; I should've put some detail on Seto's so-called unwanted emotions… tsk… I was really screwing up on that previous chapter, gomen for that!

To **silver dragongurl** – If you loved Bakura in the previous installment, you're definitely going to love him this time around! Well, at least that's what I think; I actually liked writing Bakura – so sinister and evil!! XD

To **Elusia** – Hey, thanks for that assessment! I really needed that! Not too many comment about Seto's sentiments towards the kiss, but hell yeah, I'm glad you did! ::laughs:: And that part where Seto stuffs his mouth with tissues was one of the best mental pictures I have of him! XD And of course, Bakura's just plain DISTURBING! He's definitely one of the best characters in this fic that I enjoy writing!

To **shadowsofchaos61 **– YES, shame on Seto for wiping that kiss off! I'd GOBBLE Atem if I were him! ::evil grin::

To **Lady Zephyros** – So sorry if I took long delivering this chapter! Don't worry; your questions might be answered in this chappie!!

To **Farao** – Whoa, you've been around for quite a while! I, on the other hand, joined around March of this year… XD ::blushes:: Thanks for finding this fic as one of the best you've read; you certainly made me feel elated!! I must write extra harder! The meat of the plot will eventually be revealed! Stick with me! XD

**Disclaimer**: Yu-Gi-Oh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. I, on the other hand, am only wistfully wishing Seto, Yami, and other yummy characters were mine.

**Warning**: Shonen-ai first, then Seto/Yami yaoi. Citrus, lemons, oranges, lime, and other stuff will be eventually thrown in the bunch. Watch out.

**Rating**: R, for violent scenes and sexual innuendos – this would be Bakura's fault.

**Summary**: Bakura steadily gains power from the Sacred Scepter, and looks out to the other Items from the priests, while Atem goes into retrospect, reminiscing of Sekheth. And Seto's found himself an unlikely visitor. Who could it be? Perhaps Ishizu, who wishes to confirm the existence of Sekheth? Or could it be someone else? READ, REVIEW AND RECEIVE A PRIZE! XD

**----------**

**Chapter Nine: Cups**

Someone was standing silently with the shadows, watching him. He stood up and brushed the curtains aside.

"What are you doing here?" Seto demanded. He never imagined that he would be followed to his place, nor the visitor would have the audacity to see him after what he'd done.

"I apologize for the intrusion," came a soft, moderately low voice.

Seto backed away considerably just in case; he didn't want to get a mouthful of kiss again, but at the same time, readying himself for any attack the young man might think of doing.

"What do you want? How did you find this place?" More questions flooded his thoughts, but for the meantime, he settled with the two inquiries.

The stranger was standing atop the balcony's marble banisters, and seemed not one bit unnerved of the precarious height between the railing and the ground below him. He tiptoed out of it with surprising ease and grace, almost as if he rode the evening wind, light as a whisper.

Not one of Seto's questions was answered. Instead, the man drew closer, and then instantly threw himself down in a respectful kneeling position before the brunet CEO; his head dipped low, golden blond bangs hanging from his forehead.

Seto never thought he'd be surprised more than twice in one night. "What –"

"Forgive me for the abruptness of my actions; I was too rash," the stranger murmured, regret evident in his voice.

"I was too unmindful of the situation you are in, Sekheth. I wouldn't expect that you'd remember me, especially after three thousand years…"

Seto stood, dumbfounded and puzzled. Sekheth? Three thousand years? "Look, I don't know what the hell are you playing at, but I must tell you to get out of my balcony, or I'll call the cops."

The young man looked up, his pale face politely puzzled. "Cups?" he asked, his red eyes twinkled with nostalgic mirth. "I wouldn't say no to tea, though."

At this, the blue-eyed corporate dropped his threat to silently wonder at the visitor, discerning over if the man was slightly deaf insane, or both. Surely he meant the cops – police officers – to arrest him for trespassing. Apparently, the stranger misunderstood his warning, taking 'cops' for 'cups'.

He stared at the young man before him, and in that close proximity, he saw how vivid the colors of his hair shone in the evening, despite the lack of light – how the violet tips gave way to carmine edges and then slowly dipping to black. Even the chrome bangs seemed to complement the odd mixture of hues.

And then there was the boy's pale youthful face. What puzzled him was how the intruder looked so innocent and honest. Seto couldn't sense nor detect any hint of animosity, ill will nor malice in the person.

He was still looking at the guest's eyes when Seto awoke at the sound of his digital alarm clock ringing continually in his ears. Fluttering his eyes open, he grunted and reached for it on his bedside table, promptly clicking it to stop. Silence flooded in the spacious room, along with the golden rays of sunlight seeping through the curtains. Chirruping birds tinkled like little bells somewhere in his garden.

He lifted himself promptly out of bed, shrugging off what's left of his sleepy state. He scanned his room for the first time that day, as was his habit, his eyes keenly perusing anything that would have gone missing, finally stopping when he found none misplaced or taken.

There was an intruder last night.

Was there? Seto silently struggled to collect pieces of scattered memories from the previous evening, events of what transpired. Yet the more he tried to remember, more details deftly slipped away, like water expertly escaping cupped hands; no matter how you tried to hold onto it, it just flows away.

He had the most unusual dream. Sure, at one point he dreamt of many things – from peaceful lakes to dragons flying in the sky, from being chased by paper clips to eating ice cream – everything his subconscious staged for him, but last night was the most curious, despite its disconcerting simplicity.

Seto shrugged wearily; he didn't have much sleep, as if he had the dream for the entire night – more like he was awake the whole time. He looked to where the balcony is placed, and saw the French doors slightly open, the curtains caught wind from the morning's slight draft. He strode towards it and locked it close. Then his eyes wandered beyond the doors briefly, long enough to make out something outside.

There was an empty cup on top of the table.

----------

The cold marble floors echoed his footsteps as he entered the threshold where spirits are laid to rest, where last night's cold breath still lingered among rows of stones engraved with letters of names, places, dates, and messages for the departed. The sovereign smiled, for the old customs still remained with the humans, just like in the old days.

He proceeded to descend on the stone steps, admitting himself into a humble crypt before the first rays of Ra would make itself known to the horizon.

The mausoleum was dark and damp, but he would have to make do of it for the time being. Atem held up his hand, and from it came a flicker of flame, slowly glowing brightly, illuminating the underground place. Just then, a mewling cry greeted him.

"Bastet…" He bent down to meet with the feline, purring indulgently as its master stroked the jet-black fur.

"You knew I would come here?" he asked.

"Meow," it replied, as its yellow eyes peered at him, expressing assent.

Atem sat down, and beckoned the cat to sit close to him, in which the latter obediently complied. Despite the cold temperature in his undead body, the young Pharaoh felt warmth in his hands, the same ones he used to hold the warm cup of tea Sekheth offered him.

He remembered the sweet smell of tea that met his senses, very much like the same drink he had once from long ago, where the merchants from the East traded with his country, bringing with them shipments of herbs grounded to flavor, served in steaming cups of delicate and exquisite pottery. (1) The taste was still the same as before, soothing to his cold body. He stayed with a pleasant memory: where he used to sit outside – in the Palace's balcony – gazing at the stars, Sekheth beside him, where they talked endlessly of numerous things, a warm cup in their hands…

Bastet curled up on his lap. The visit at Sekheth's house was like a very comforting reverie. True, Sekheth may not remember him; that was certain. But as he thought of that warm cup of tea, he saw a small spark of hope. It was a start.

Atem managed a smile before he closed his eyes to a peaceful sleep, the first one he had in a long while.

---------

There was a soft dripping sound of water from a distance, slowly rousing him to consciousness. His eyes strained to look in the darkness of his surroundings. His nose cringed in disgust; the place reeked of something inhuman. He struggled to ease himself out of his tiring position, but quickly realized that he couldn't. He grunted heavily as he vainly tried to move his arms and legs.

He was bounded tightly by ropes.

"Where am I?" he found his voice, cracked and rusty, as if he hadn't used it for a long time.

A searing laugh pierced through the still air.

"Where are you? I assure you, you're not in Hell. At least not yet."

Then suddenly, big lights flickered to life, glaring his vision, momentarily blinding him. He hissed unknowingly as he felt pain building up in his body, stinging, like a thousand knives began penetrating his pale skin. The lights were so close to him that its emitting heat was too much to bear.

But as quickly as the light came, it disappeared. The maniacal laughter returned to full measure.

"Painful, isn't it? It had to. Those lights resemble the fucking sun. Further exposure will cook you alive. Wonderful, is it?"

"Bakura…"

"My voice is not so hard to guess, you think so?"

The lights opened up once more, along with a long painful shriek ringing throughout the warehouse. He fought hard to stay conscious despite the agonizing pain. Then it was extinguished again.

"Oh, I just love it when you scream, Marik. It sounds so different from others. Yours have this lovely ring to it. I can't wait to hear more, you know…"

Lights streamed unfiltered for the third time. Marik, however, kept his mouth shut, silently consenting himself to remain impervious to the escalating pain. He averted his lavender eyes below him, and saw a horrible sight.

Bodies scattered everywhere in chaos, all coated in blood, their lifeless positions jerky and awkward, as if they died trying to run away. Sliced throats and dismembered body parts filled the gaps of the twisted puzzle of the ocean of carcass and carnage. Marik, almost forgetting the pain, choked back before finally vomiting unceremoniously, unable to withstand the morbid and appalling vision.

Darkness followed suit. He was heaving with strenuous effort.

"Liked what you saw? I made it myself. Be proud, because you're the first one to see it," came Bakura's joyous voice.

Marik coughed, and brought himself to speak again. "It was no wonder he left you for Sekheth, you sick son-of-a-bitch," he hissed.

Instantly, he felt a sturdy hand grip his neck, vice-like and exceptionally strong, squeezing the air out of him. Marik rasped as the hand increased its unearthly pressure.

"You still have the balls to throw me an insult, half-breed. Be thankful I have to spare your sorry life, for I still have use of you," Bakura breathed threateningly at the blond vampire, his lips slightly brushing Marik's ear. He held on to the slim neck even tighter, further blocking the passage of air from the latter. "However, do not tempt me, and believe me, I am itching to gut your throat and watch your blood spill." With an impatient grunt, Bakura relieved the tension, and threw him back, the half-blood vampire breathing air in quick gaps.

"What do you want from me?" Marik croaked weakly as he spat on the ground.

"Funny you should mention that idiotic Pharaoh, because I'm looking for him. But for the meantime, I will have to enjoy myself with my new toy…"

Marik felt the cold metal of the Scepter against his cheek.

----------

The day passed without incident, much to Seto's relief. He was already done for the day, having immersed himself totally in his job, so that he could forget and push his thoughts to the back of his mind. It had worked well; pretty soon he had to move around a lot constantly from one place to another: overseeing the construction of the corporation's new branch in another city, attend a company luncheon, sign contract deals back in the main building, and even personally attend to Mokuba by sending an extra packed lunch to the surprised younger sibling. By the end of the day, he was convinced that everything that transpired last night was just one lousy dream.

Almost.

If it weren't for that teacup.

Evening came to Domino like a drifting blanket spreading over the city. Soon, lights sprung to life, sparkling like multi-colored jewels in the bustling metropolis. The CEO was busy checking sales reports and cash flow ledgers, while a cellular phone was almost glued to his other hand, talking to someone.

"It's either you close the deal or you start looking for a job. It's as simple as that. I want it straighten up by tomorrow or I'll have your desk cleared by then. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, Mister Kaiba," an employee stammered from the other end of the line. "And about Mister. Pegasus –"

"I am still considering. Apparently, I have yet to hold a board meeting to discuss with other stockholders regarding this matter. Right now, we just have to tell him to wait. There's –" Seto's words left at an abrupt stop when a metallic click greeted his ears near him.

"Sir Kaiba, you have a visitor." His secretary's voice sounded nervous. She should be; roughly interrupting Seto was just as safe as losing your job.

Putting down his mobile phone (the employee was still on), he pressed a button irritably, and replied, "Didn't I make it clear that no one should disturb me after five? And didn't I tell you not to allow and schedule appointments not later than four?" Seto now felt in the mood to fire someone.

"But Mr. Kaiba, the visitor said it's an emergency –"

"I'm busy. Tell whoever he is to get the hell out of my office."

"Actually, sir –" The secretary was cut short. Seto then heard a new voice at the other end.

"Isis Ishtar wishes to see you, Mister Seto Kaiba."

----------

Marik let out a sigh; the seemingly effortless exercise proved to be very physically demanding. His body ached in virtually a lot of places; his flesh felt so raw that the unbearable throb of pain was hardly identifiable with the occasional spasms of the Shadow surging inside his system. Bakura had taken great delight in subjecting the young half-blood in a myriad of inhumane torture, but the latter was not about to give in. He couldn't afford to.

"Dammit, half-breed, answer the goddamn question!" Electricity poured freely in Bakura's outstretched hand, his brown eyes reflecting no mercy towards the shuddering form of the lesser vampire. The Sacred Rod clung close to the pale neck, Marik's blood staining the gold edges. The ancient Root seized a clump of sandy blond hair and pulled down, and lowered his head to meet with weak lavender eyes, his nose so close to smelling the aromatic scent of blood from the other. He repeated the question, "Where is Atem, half-breed, where is he?"

"I've told you already, I don't know!" Marik hissed in reply. "How many times do I have to drill that in your thick skull?"

"Your batty old sister sent you to find him, yes? This Rod would help you locate the runaway Pharaoh. Apparently, it seems that the Item didn't have that ability…" He pulled on Marik's hair further. "Which brings me to the idea about the other Sacred Weapons."

"You know the existence of those Items, thief. The Pharaoh's High Priests watch over them –"

"I know that, you idiot –"

"Then you already know that seeking those weapons will only qualify as your death wish!" Marik said, relief momentarily in his eyes when he saw the other pair flicker uncertainly for a second. "The other Items hold power beyond what you know of –"

Bakura's sly grin turned into a malicious sneer. "Which is exactly why I want them," he cut in as he expertly twirled the Scepter in his free hand, and gave a meaningful glance at Marik before planting a fast kiss on the bloodstained cheek. Marik cringed in disgust.

The Sacred Scepter glowed in the dark. "And whoever said I was going to get them on my own?"

----------

Ishizu waited patiently as the secretary opened the door to the CEO's office. The employee appeared very flustered, as the author silently watched her bow down profusely at the businessman before finally letting her inside. A quick glimpse at the secretary told Ishizu just as much; the woman was close to tears. Without waiting for further ado, she stepped inside the threshold.

She looked around. The room was furnished with minimal decorations: a few expensive paintings from a prominent artist in the 1800's hung on the ecru wall; a wooden cabinet sat quietly in a corner, perched atop on it are bronze figurines from the East; a simple black leather couch on the other side, coupled with some smaller seats, and some more little details scattered the place – unobtrusive yet was nothing short of extravagant. The office was simple-looking, yet exuded an air of unmistakable affluence. Of course there had to be; Seto Kaiba was a man who knew his money's worth very well.

And there was Seto Kaiba, the Chief Executive Officer of the Kaiba Corporation, sitting on an expensive custom-made leather chair, with the sky behind his back, along with the illustrious city – with its lights and all – as if basking the businessman in its glory.

"Isis Ishtar, correct?"

Ishizu nodded and gave a curt bow to acknowledge the man before him. The other stood up to meet the lady, bringing up his hand for a handshake. The handshake, she noticed, was listless and brief, as if he did not care to touch him for longer than necessary.

"I am sorry to have disturbed you, Mister Kaiba. Please direct your wrath at me, and not your secretary, for it is entirely my fault. I insisted on seeing you, after all. There is no need to fire her." With this, the priestess bowed low in apology.

Seto did not say anything, but only raised an eyebrow at the words of the woman. "It seems you have been expertly advised about me, Miss Isis; perhaps my ill-temper is legendary, even among the writer's circle?"

"Expertly advised? I think not. I know no one in your line of business to tell me of you," came her reply. Ishizu is good judge of character, a trait she has acquired over the span of more than a thousand years, and such comes to her as second nature. One look at the office and the subordinates told her just as much about the young president.

"Very well, what business brings you here, authoress?" Seto asked. "I would never thought that you'd come here yourself willingly, of all places, when there are others who are keen to pay millions just to see you."

Ishizu let out a short laugh, apparently amused at the passing comment. "I say it is quite flattering, coming from you, but I came not for business," she said, turning serious almost at once. "I have a simple request to ask of you." She watched as a brown eyebrow rose in the businessman's face.

"A request?" Seto echoed. His eyes followed the woman's hand, which was now bringing out a heavy black book out of a bag woven out of cloth. The book looked strangely familiar.

"What's this?" The young man's gaze focused on the thick hardbound. The authoress stood simply, her hand outstretched, offering him the object.

"Please read it, Mister Kaiba."

A few moments' silence hung around the both of them like a heavy mantle until Seto broke it with a mirthless guffaw. "Miss Isis, is this the only reason you came here, to have me read a book?"

"Yes."

Seto turned to the clear Plexiglas glass behind him before replying. "You have undoubtedly wasted your time in coming here," he said. "I think I am capable of reading unaided, but frankly, asking me to read your novel so directly and abruptly is pretty unprecedented for a woman of your caliber.

"Besides, I am a busy man. Reading for leisure hardly constitutes as a productive job," he finished, just as he averted his eyes back to the novelist, and found that she was still holding the book up to him, thick resolve reflected in her otherwise-calm eyes.

"Leisure? Hardly. I am afraid this is more than what you might call as unproductive," Ishizu replied. "I am insisting that you read it."

"What for? Miss Ishtar, you already have a huge following in all your novels. Adding me to your already-long list of fans is not worth all the trouble, believe me. So save your breath, for I am not reading it."

"I am asking you to take a little of your time and reconsider, Mister Kaiba." Ishizu did not need to convert the man into an avid fan of hers; there was a much heavier reason. The book was meant not for the millions of mortal readers in the first place. She became a writer to search and call for the lost mortal who might've been asleep in the realm of the living. Those books were written solely for that purpose – for the awakening of Sekheth. Perhaps there is a glimmer of chance that the old soul might recognize and remember an event from a past memory. It is possible.

Yet to Ishizu, the present form has grown to reject anything from it. If this person were indeed Sekheth, he had now changed to become a man of the current age – of disbelief, of banality and the mundane – deeply burying the last of its previous existence. Reincarnation entailed a constant growth of the soul, and is continually subjected in a myriad of forms and changes throughout the span of time, until it has finally attained perfection.

Seto, however, was now growing impatient. The woman proved to be too driven with her goals. An idea struck him. "Oh I get it, Isis. Do you need financial backing, by any chance? I'd say it is quite a scheme – allowing me to read your works first – to get my attention. I guess there's no honor left in this materialistic world, don't you think so?"

Ishizu shook her head sadly; the last thing she wanted to happen was to be accused of being a manipulative person. "Mister Kaiba, please do not get me wrong, for I do not wish for personal gain –"

"Oh, but that's where you are truly mistaken, because everything revolves around personal benefit," Seto interrupted, deciding to stop acting civil towards the visitor. "Trust, kindness, and high-and-mighty selflessness won't feed your starving family. That's the way people work now, Isis. So whatever you're selling, I'm not buying. There's –"

"Then I am extremely disappointed in this world you perceive now, _Sekheth_," muttered Ishizu, cutting the businessman to a surprised stop. She placed the book down on the table. "My request still stands. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Search your soul, Mister Kaiba; this book will help you." And with a slow bow, she turned around and left the young capitalist in the confines of the office that brought no comfort to the wise priestess.

----------

Atem opened his eyes, and still found the magical flame glowing brightly, and Bastet still curled up on his lap. He ran a finger through the fur to rouse the feline. Ears twitching, Bastet rose and stretched while letting out a silent yawn before greeting the sovereign with a weak meow.

"Good evening," Atem greeted as he stood to get out of the crypt. It was now evening; the sounds of the night permeated the air: the soft rustle of the wind, slightly disturbing the still blades of grass; the occasional hoots from a passing owl, or the quick flutter of bat wings surrounding the quiet cemetery.

"Sekheth is coming home," he said as he lifted his head to scan the skies, as if he had seen the answer in their twinkling light. With a hopeful heart, he trudged out of the cemetery, disappearing as he rounded on a corner of a street, going through a path that would lead him to the mortal's house.

----------

Seto slid inside the limousine. The driver watched, confused and puzzled, before finally asking his master.

"Any stopovers, Sir Kaiba?" came his usual line.

It took a full minute before Seto answered him, looking very much distracted, as if snapping out of a dream. "No, drive straight home," came the usual reply.

The driver shrugged as he closed the door. Seto never heard nor registered any outside sound around him, preferring to mull over his thoughts.

Isis had turned up in his office to encourage him to read her book. _"Search your soul, Mister Kaiba; this book will help you," _the writer's voice repeated in his head. The nerve of that woman to tell him what to do! He looked out to his window, yet he saw none of the passing scenery. He left the book in the building; he didn't even dare touch it.

_"Then I am extremely disappointed in this world you perceive now, _Sekheth._" _

Sekheth.

Sekheth.

"Sir?"

Seto started. He saw the car door now open, his driver bent low, looking perplexed. "We're already here at the mansion, sir," he heard him say. Shaking his head before managing a stern look, Seto emerged out of the car and headed for the door, where a few servants waited for him.

"Good evening, Sir Kaiba," the butler addressed him; a few maids bowed briefly before resuming their silent stance.

"'Evening," blurted Seto as he went past the mansion's employees and into the main staircase. The butler followed suit.

"Will you be having dinner now, sir? The chef prepared a seafood platter as the main course."

"No. I'm not hungry."

"Then how about something to drink, sir?"

"No thank you."

"Is there anything else I might get you, sir?"

_'Get out of my sight.' _"No, I'm fine," Seto answered instead. "I'll call when I need anything, Barton."

The head servant bowed low before exiting. The businessman breathed wearily as he opened the door to his bedroom. Shadows lengthened, as if engulfing him before he flicked the lights open, bathing the room with fluorescent light. He set his briefcase down on his bed as he loosened his tie.

The curtains were swaying with the wind again. Seto's eyes followed its movement as he stepped out of the balcony once more. For some strange reason, he felt relief wash over him. Amidst the confusing events that led through the night, there was a peculiar thought that lingered deep in him that gave him a different brand of comfort.

He plunged into a dream.

"Good evening, Sekheth."

**---- To Be Continued ----**

**Footnotes: (1)** I don't know a thing about trade and industry in the presumable time of Atem, which would be Ancient Egypt. I haven't a clue whether Chinese merchants had a thriving commerce in Egypt, so I apologize for this big historical error – I made it for the sake of the story; history aficionados please don't kill me! XD

**Author's Notes**: Well, this chapter sucks, partly because nothing really extravagant happened, except for that weird misunderstanding on "cups" and "cops". Grrr… blame Atem for sleeping so long to not know of the recent developments in human civilization. XD

Nevertheless, I am prepared to take punishment from your wrathful hands for the slow progress of the story, and its crappy quality… eep! Tell me what you think, guys!! Accompany your review with a big punch to my face, so I could deliver the rest of the chapters faster and better next time!! Arrggghhh!!

Chapter Ten promises to deliver more meat into the plot, as I am slowly inching to that. Consider this chapter as an in-between for the future installments to come! Stick with me, onegaishimasu!!

**What's in Chapter Ten?** It seems like Seto begins to welcome the visitor in his humble abode, yet he continues to wonder about the man's identity and uncanny inquisitiveness. Why is it that he is constantly being called "Sekheth"? Meanwhile, Bakura hatches a plan to claim the rest of the Sacred Weapons. What's Marik got to do with this? And lastly, will Seto ultimately "find his soul" in that book Ishizu has left for him?

That's it for now! STICK WITH ME! XD

Thanks a lot and Rock On!


	10. Roses

**Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine**

**Author's Notes**: **SEASON'S GREETINGS, EVERYONE!** A tad late for it, but what the heck! Whee! I made it! I started working on this while I was being bullied into guzzling some alcoholic drinks, and in the midst of that soaring and dizzying feeling, I wrote at the back of my English subject handouts before I passed out (good thing I didn't throw up while everyone was swimming in their own regurgitated dinners), and then finally waking up more than twelve hours later with the biggest hangover I had in ages… Damn brothers and sisters! XD Oh but I love them so much! ::huggles my siblings::

**A BIG THANKS **for finding Chapter Nine a nice installment, despite me saying it was no good! Grr… Now that I have pushed it out of the way, I guess the next ones to come will reveal more of the plot. I hope you still remember some characters from the previous chapters, as they will be having a comeback to clear some of the issues. **Like who was responsible for Atem's awakening, **for instance. Or **the mysterious Mai and her so-called answers for the sovereign's questions**. Or **Bakura's**** version of truth**. Or **what's in that book Ishizu gave to Seto**. Or **about Sekheth**. And many other nasty details. XD So dust off those previous episodes of mine, because I'm about to link the past, the present, and the future! ::laughs evilly::

To **Aoi**** Rakuen**: You reviewed all nine chapters! ::huggles::

To **Yit****-Ha**: ::bows down repeatedly:: Oh yeah, this story should be moving a lot faster! I apologize for my slow updates as well as my slow progress! T.T

To **Shinigami's**** Minion**: Thanks for finding this story interesting and gripping! Hehe, there's more to come, of course! XD

To **Ahja**** Reyn**: Sexual tension? Oh yeah, last chapter's had a nice, perverse effect on the readers! Don't worry, what you're feeling is just natural! ::wink:: Your fic's still in my watchlist, and it was just a pain that I don't have the ample time to review!! Eep, gomen ne!

To **silverdragongurl**: HOORAY FOR BAKURA!! And a dirty mind, like Nachzes would say, is truly a blessing!

To **Sylivia**** Viridian**: ::pats her shoulder:: 'Tis okay. Yaoi stories in those fandoms tend to really put me off of the genre. But heck, yaoi was just too big an influence to let go!! XD

To **Nachzes****-Black Rider**: ::smiles and glomps:: Action shall come soon! … I hope… ::sweatdrops::

To **shadowsofchaos61**: Yep, Atem deserted Bakura. And there's a reason for all this! More to come! I've read your story, but I haven't reviewed it! Sorry! I will attend to that ASAP!

To **Elusia**: Yep, the title seemed puzzling, even to me at first. I named it because I had no other titles in mind… ::sweatdrops:: And woohoo, thanks for assessing Seto and Ishizu's conversation in the previous chappy! I was waiting for someone to do that! ::thumbs up::

**Disclaimer**: YGO is a joint legal venture of a large consortium of companies, in which Kazuki Takahashi reigns supreme as the creator and thus receives royalties from cards, toys, and other merchandise I am dying to have and acquire. Not mine at all, dammit.

**Warning**: You'd better love YGO, yaoi, Seto/Yami, and Mooguri Klaine if you're in this page.

**Rating**: R, for violence, obsession, language use, and other worldly demons. More mature themes to come.

**Summary**: A Prince. A lover. A past. A thirst for blood. Enter a new alternate reality where the fearsome Prince of the Night walks, and begins a search for the man he had left behind after a long slumber, and in turn, hurls himself in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death. Will all events lead him to his lost romance? Read and review! XD

**----------**

**Chapter Ten: Roses**

Two weeks have passed since Seto had a strange encounter with a mysterious person. Cloaked and enshrouded with a surreal amount of enigma, the young man came with the night, silent; eyes as red as wine innocently watching every move from the puzzled businessman. He would've felt disturbed, perhaps he was, but he couldn't bring himself to hate the quiet visitor. There was no reason to.

It was as if the young man intended to stay inconspicuous and as unobtrusive as possible – preferring to sit out in the balcony than anything else.

Once, Seto barely contained himself from the riveting and nagging thought that kept on springing in his head. He asked,

"Why are you here?"

Small, shy lips curled up in a little smile and answered, "Because I want to know you all over again, Sekheth."

This left Seto in a bigger conundrum than before, for two reasons:

The name 'Sekheth'. Who is this Sekheth person that people kept mistaking him for? Once, the writer Isis called him by that name. Chance? Perhaps. Then this stranger had uttered the same. Chance still? It might've been coincidence. And if it shall occur for the third time, what now?

But if that was enough, the lines, "know you all over again" elicited suspicion albeit curiosity from Seto. Had he met this person before? Certainly not. And yet the stranger seemed to speak as if they actually did. But where? _When?_

More questions stemmed and flowed from one, each as befuddling and confusing than the last.

And then there was the book Isis had left in his office. How could bounded pieces of paper help him "find his soul"? Seto knew he was pretty much adept at doing a lot of things, even if left alone. Surely he didn't need any outside force acting on him. Plus, the last thing he needed was to find a metaphysical concept he never cared for in the first place. He hasn't dare touched a single page of it until now.

And although Seto may not understand it himself, he continues to bring a steaming cup of tea for the houseguest in the balcony, in which the latter receives it with much gratitude, like a child receiving a rare treat. And the whole room would fall silent again, and the man would resume to watching him. Then Seto would wake in the morning the following day and find him gone. Only the teacup would serve as a reminder of his presence. Night after night, the same process goes on in the Kaiba mansion.

Then a week ago, the visitor did something that greatly surprised the brunet man, just as he did when he was first kissed unceremoniously some time ago.

"What's this?" Seto asked at the rose the stranger held in front of him.

"A rose, Sekheth. You used to like them." Soft, red eyes twinkled happily in reply, along with a faint blush from the young man.

Seto thought that the guy was losing it. The rose, if anything, was in a color that made it remotely look like a rose – the petals were in ebony black, looking much like a small hole of darkness when seen from afar. Plus there was the fact that he never really harbored a particular liking towards flowers. And to top it all off, Seto was receiving roses when he wasn't supposed to in the first place.

But instead of him telling off the youth for giving him things he shouldn't have, Seto blurted out something else that surprised him even more.

"I don't like black."

Exactly why he had uttered so he could only guess. The guest's cheery face dropped a little, a little frown marked the pale visage. He looked at the rose morosely before smiling yet again.

"Then I shall bring you a different color until I figured out which one you like, Sekheth."

Since then, he was bringing a new color of rose each time he visits. Pink ones. Orange ones. Violet ones. And even the classic red-colored rose. Just as Seto found this habit rather amusing albeit disturbing, he was slowly growing accustomed of the silent company, and of the visitor's strange ways. Little by little, he would engage the other in simple conversation. Shy and timid, the other man would answer uncertainly, but it took a little while at getting used to – the stranger looked as if he was still having trouble speaking the language.

And yet as the nights drew on, the cups of tea kept on coming, along with those oddly colored roses.

----------

Hell shall come quick. And it did, for those who have met the doom delivered painstakingly and slowly, ensuring all kinds of pain until one by one, they fell to their knees, dying. For a period of fourteen nights, the bloodbath continued without an end in sight. Shocking numbers of violent deaths only left more puzzling speculations that led to numerous dead-ends, leaving the town's law enforcers and investigators wildly searching for any clue that would surface. The city has befallen to a mass murderer on the loose.

Recent reports concluded that there are now two perpetrators.

Bakura watched amusingly as the last of the preys were slaughtered, the gleam of the Scepter in his hand, murderous, masked with the tint of blood. Putting his hands together in a burst of one-man applause, he cried joyfully, "Excellent job, Marik!"

Soulful lavender eyes were gone, only to be replaced by cold pools of mixing hues of scarlet and purple. Sandy blond hair stood out in tweaks and ominous spikes, the pale face curling up in a sinister sneer.

----------

Ishizu waited. She has always waited. In fact, she has spent all her life waiting. And yet how could two weeks of silence proved to be too long for her? She was starting to get impatient and nervous at the businessman's lack of response. Even the Necklace found her no sense of consolation; it had grown silent these past days, when it should've been doing its job of warning the priestess.

Bit by bit, she was starting to despair.

She watched Karimu for most of the time spent in waiting. Of all the Pharaoh's priests, Karimu was the only one who carried a tangible and fascinating talent – to paint. Three thousand years ago, the skilled artist painted on the walls of Kemet, immortalizing the everyday lives of his people – both secular and the religious – and inexorably capturing fine details no other court painter could ever match.

Centuries hurried past them, and so did his techniques and art style. He had inherited a lot of influence from the Western artists, yet still marveled at the mystic ways of the East. More than a hundred paintings later, Karimu was more than an art genius.

Such was the ingenuity and skill that he was able to produce his finest _obra__ maestra _– his work of art.

The painting of the Pharaoh. (1)

And now the priestess stood behind the artist at work, noticing the uncanny ease of the former's pale hands that slowly dip the brush into a swirl of color, bringing up the hand expertly before the canvas, and with painstaking accuracy, slide the instrument against its medium. No magic could outweigh the single phenomenon of hues battling before finally merging into one color, distinct and new to the sight.

Shada was also with them, staring calmly at the ensuing scene. He was the priest known to be as "the lover of silence", and this title was aptly suited for him. And yet what his mouth could not have done, his mind had considerably compensated, for his silence comes with an insurmountable wellspring of knowledge. Shada was one of the Empire's greatest minds, his words of advise always treated in high esteem. It was from him that many children were educated and taught of the ways of the world, long before Socrates and other Greek milestones had thought of the Academy.

And then there was Mahado, most loyal subject to serve Pharaoh Atem. He was rightly honored as the sovereign's trusted servant, blindly following whatever Egypt's Horus had ordained. In Mahado, the young ruler found a friend that stood by his side at all times, and a protector that would readily die when circumstances called for such situation.

To Ishizu, he would always be her husband and lifelong companion. Lovers they both were when they met scores of millennia back, and they still remained together, even in their lifetime service to the boy king. Mahado was perhaps the most dynamic and ever-changing of among all of them, for he had dedicated much of his life as a doctor. He attempted to reconcile sorcery and the natural, and strove hard to cure the greatest and most principal weakness of the Children of the Night: fear of the sun. He had journeyed far and mastered all prevailing precursor of the natural sciences. But it was not his primary drive for doing so. In his search, he had discovered a lot of things, and amidst all of the people he healed and helped, he could still not help his wife.

Ishizu cannot bear a child.

It was due to an accident that brought about an untimely miscarriage that pushed Mahado to fulfilling his goal: that one day, they would have a child of their own.

But it was Ishizu who ultimately decided not to. Painful it might have been for the priestess to say this to her better half, she had her mind set already. All her life she had served Atem, and for her, she treated the young child as her own. It was a dark time for both of them. Yet in their hearts they knew that to embrace immortality, certain sacrifices had to be made.

The Keeper of the Sacred Ring stood, alert and wary, watching as the artifact glowed on his hand, the little trinkets pointed to a certain direction as one. The Ring could detect other Sacred Items' presence in the immediate vicinity.

Someone was coming.

"Marik?" he asked mildly. Ishizu looked up.

"My brother is back?" she asked, her heart soaring in her chest. The worry she has been harboring for a while now dissipated considerably. His brother was safe. She approached the door quickly, more than oblige to meet the return of young Marik, but a hand stopped her pace.

"I'll go check," Mahado said, a hint of wariness in his low voice. "I sense a different aura. Something's not right."

"What –" Before she could say or do anything, the other priest had closed the door before her. Karimu and Shada had abandoned what they were doing and stood beside Ishizu, who fell unnaturally silent. The Necklace shone for a moment, and the reaction was instantaneous to its bearer.

"Mahado!" she gasped fearfully as she flung her hands to open the door, dashing out of it and into the long hallway, her cloak fluttering behind. Hurried footsteps behind her meant that the other priests followed her flight. The silence around them was not one bit comforting – it was still and empty, heavy with dread and danger.

There was indeed something wrong.

It was as if the silence could last forever, but it ended so abruptly that all three priests stopped dead in their tracks.

Only Ishizu's scream could rival the resounding explosion that reverberated in the mansion.

----------

Bakura couldn't help himself from smiling these past days. So many good things happened to him, and all to his favor, it seems. More than a thousand years he had fallen silent, choosing not to attract too much attention to himself, yet this silence was short-lived. Deep in his gut, he felt that he needed to surface out of his shell. He had a far better purpose these days.

He clapped approvingly as he watched the flames engulfed the mansion of the First Brood, red and orange swirled ominously, licking through its roof, its solid walls, its high windows…

And amidst the blazing inferno that raged on in the peaceful countryside, a shadow emerged out from it, walking solemnly away as if nothing transpired.

Rubbing his hands eagerly, Bakura asked happily, "So what have you got for me, tomb keeper?"

Marik held three items, two of which he threw at Bakura's feet. A faint jingle echoed in the wood, as the white-haired vampire bent low to pick up his new trophies.

"The Sacred Ring," Bakura breathed, tracing his fingers to the round contours that defined the item. "Is this the one that tracks the other Items?"

A blank nod replied.

"And what's this?" Bakura now held up a walnut-sized golden ball against the light, noticing the imperious Eye carved in the middle. "The Sacred Eye…" He chuckled with feeling while he pocketed another newfound treasure.

Marik approached him and offered him the third item. Bakura's mirthless brown eyes twinkled.

"Excellent."

----------

'I wonder what's eating my brother these days…'

In the limousine, Mokuba stole a glance at his side, where his brother sat unusually quiet, when he should've been in the middle of a heated argument with an employee on the phone, or fervently lecturing his little sibling about studies and responsibilities. There was none of those coming from the older Kaiba at the moment. At first, it delighted Mokuba considerably, for he was saved from the seemingly endless barrage of litanies that never failed to come at him. But the silence from Seto continued on for days, and the little one was starting to get worried. And that's not the end of it.

Lately, Mokuba has been noticing traces of sleeplessness in Seto, as evidenced by dark lines under his now-limpid blue eyes. True, Kaiba Corporation's CEO had a lot to work on, but the younger Kaiba was certain that the former was still getting enough sleep amidst the demanding work schedule. But now, it was as if his brother _hardly _slept at all. Stress was starting to take its toll on the otherwise-young Seto, that was apparent, yet there was more into it.

'What's bothering big brother?'

----------

"No!" Ishizu cried as she laid her eyes on to the lifeless form of Mahado, strength and power drained and gone in the midst of the terrible fire that was threatening to engulf them. She knelt on the ashen floor, not caring if her immaculate robes got stained nor if the groaning structure of the house would fall on her. She was unable to stop her sobs as she held the other priest, tears rolling down her face, and unto the pale face of Mahado.

There was not a moment to spare.

Her Necklace glimmered, along with her hands glowing a serene blue. 'Heal,' she ordered her thoughts, forcing her powers to repair the damage that was dealt upon on the other. She watched as bit by bit the magic starting its reparative effect on Mahado, mending broken bones, fixing damaged arteries and muscles, closing opened wounds.

Mahado would soon wake.

Yet Ishizu feared another thing: the man had lost so much blood in the struggle. Her healing powers could only do so little. Mahado's emerald eyes opened up, bringing along a raspy laborious breathing, poor and ailing. Ishizu's heart throbbed in panic.

There was no choice; Mahado needed blood. She made a decision.

She brought the other vampire to a sitting position, while her hand tugged hard to remove the Sacred Necklace from her neck, tossing it aside. She unclasped her fastened cloak, and fumbled for her garment's buttons. She slid a part of it off her, exposing her fragile neck.

Ishizu winced as sharp fangs dug unto her flesh, siphoning the blood off her body. She shuddered warily, feeling her consciousness slipping away from her, exhaustion finally taking its toll.

The last thing she saw was ashes and cinders floating in the air before her, and there was darkness.

----------

Mokuba watched stealthily at his brother once more on the pretense of reading a book. He decided to halt his perusal of Isis' novel for the meantime to observe the strange habits Seto was now manifesting.

Both siblings have just finished their dinners and were now in the living room. The dinner, Mokuba noted, was a silent one: his brother barely spoke a word other than "please pass the rice, salt, pepper". On most occasions, the elder Kaiba poked the steak absent-mindedly or just stared morosely in space. Mokuba tried striking up little conversation with him ("How was work today, big brother?"), but he only got minimal results. Seto seemed to snap out of his daydream at first and answer Mokuba ("Fine"), before going back to zoning out.

And now Seto was deeply engrossed on some numbers in his laptop. At least, that was what Mokuba thought at first. Upon closer scrutiny, his brother was just timidly staring at the monitor, his hand resting on top of the keyboard, lifeless and unmoving.

Mokuba read the symptoms in his mind. Sleeplessness. Lack of appetite. Daydreaming. Poor concentration.

'Could it be that big brother's in love?' he thought wildly.

----------

Atem emerged out of the cemetery as soon as he saw the first signs of night making it visible around him. He walked past tombstones, plaques, and monuments, his shoes snapping a twig or two in the silent courtyard.

He looked up to see the moon, full in its glory, the silver orb hung low in the heavens. Apep, the night serpent, has claimed the night sky. (2) He smiled before bringing his hand to the ground as he knelt. A slow, humming flash of light shimmered around him as he focused his power unto the soil. He watched as a small bud rose from it, twisting up as leaves sprouted from its stems. Finally, the bud started to unfold its petals one by one, almost like undressing itself out of its cocoon and showing the world its lovely ensemble.

The rose was pristine white in color. Atem plucked it out from its anchor, looking at it in deep scrutiny. "White seems inappropriate…" he remarked.

Then he remembered something that made him smile. "You have blue eyes, Sekheth." He kissed the rose's petals and watched it dramatically transform into a stunning color of blue. Atem stared longingly at it, a nostalgic smile curling in his lips.

"I knew I'd find you here," a voice cut through his thoughts. He spun around, surprised at the presence of an intruder. He'd seen this person before – long blond locks, violet almond-shaped eyes…

"Mai…"

"Glad that you remembered me, Your Highness," she said as she bowed down courteously before him. She offered a hand to Atem. "Will you come with me, Pharaoh?

I have the answers that you seek."

----------

"You're alright now…

"Ishizu…"

The priestess opened her eyes. The room came to her in a blur at first, before images started to clear. She let out a sigh, before feeling an arm wrap tightly around her.

"Thank Ra you are alive…"

"You are all safe," Ishizu murmured as she managed a weak smile. Looks of relief from Shada, Karimu, and Mahado greeted her, and she too felt reassured. No one was harmed. She locked her eyes onto Mahado, and felt tears stinging her eyes; she had saved him in time. They held hands for a long while, both glad at the comfortable silence that lingered between them, that words need not to be spoken to be understood.

It was then when she noticed that the Sacred Ring that usually hung on Mahado's neck was not with him. "The Ring –" she started.

As if anticipating the priestess' thoughts, Mahado answered, "- was taken by Marik."

"Marik?!" Ishizu cried in surprise. "How could he – no, it couldn't be!"

"He ran off with three items – along with the Ring, he also took the Sacred Eye that was kept in our vaults," Shada said pensively. "We are under the impression that he was being controlled…"

"It was the third item he stole that cleared our suspicions," Karimu added.

"What is it?"

"Look around you." Ishizu turned her gaze to what's left of the mansion after the fire, trying to find what was taken from the once-lavish hall. She didn't have to look far to find out what it was.

Karimu's painting of the Pharaoh was nowhere to be found.

"Bakura…"

-----------

'Who the hell are you, Sekheth?' Seto found himself asking the question over and over again. He stared blankly at his laptop's monitor, hardly taking in the numbers and figures that sprawled across the screen. Lately he had been slacking off of his work, his otherwise-firm concentration suddenly running out, as he would wander away from his desk and look to the skies, pondering on the same question.

He tried looking for that name, of course. He already ran it over on several search engines and name-gathering databases, but he could only go so far, and yet not much further. Sekheth was a derivative of the Egyptian name, Sutekh, which can be traced back into the old days of the Kemet, the old name of Egypt. Other sources suggest that it was another name for the Egyptian god of death and destruction, Seth. (3) This only made things a lot more complicated than Seto gave credit for. How was he related to some Egyptian deity that never existed anyway?

And if his time was not spent in finding out Sekheth, he would be regularly tormented by Isis' words, and the book that was left untouched in his office.

And then he would revert to pondering over Sekheth. It was a vicious and perplexing cycle that he was constantly being confronted every day.

"Who are you, Sekheth?" Without meaning to, Seto blurted his thoughts aloud, clear and audible enough that Mokuba, who was reading a book near him, heard it perfectly well.

"Did I just hear you say 'Sekheth'?" Mokuba asked, suspicious and at the same time thrilled.

Seto looked at his younger sibling. There was a certain knowing that reflected in the latter's blue-gray eyes. "You know him?"

Mokuba closed the book while he rolled his eyes; the question posed at him sounded like an insult to a true-blue fan of Isis. "Come on, big brother, who doesn't know Sekheth these days?

"He was a character in Isis' latest novel, Invoke," he said expertly. "He was the mortal from Kemet that had a strange accident with – HEY!" Mokuba protested as he saw his brother rose up from his seat and made a move to leave. "I'm not finished yet!"

"I'm going to bed," Seto said flatly, not even bothering to look back at his younger brother as he trudged up the stairs without further ado.

Mokuba scratched his head, puzzled. "Gee, if he didn't like my plot synopsis, he should've said so!" He plopped down on the sofa and flipped his book open.

"Big brothers. I just don't get them."

-----------

_"My request still stands. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Search your soul, Mister Kaiba; this book will help you."_

Seto eased out the velvet hardbound from his bedside cabinet, gazing at the golden letters of the word Invoke shimmering in the night light.

_"Because I want to know you all over again, Sekheth."_

Thumbing the soft edges of the paper, he lifted the book's cover and started to read.

**----To Be Continued----**

**Footnotes: (1) **Yep, Karimu's painting, it is! This would explain why he threw a fit at Mahado for trying to blast the painting to smithereens in Chapter Four. Hehe, and Bakura stole the painting for himself!! XD

**(2) **Apep was called the night serpent in Egyptian mythology, in which the said creature swallows the sun, thus causing… night! XD

**(3) **Sekheth's name and its relationship with its derivatives and whatnot, are all made up by my restless brain. I encountered something like this somewhere, I just don't remember where… O.o

**Author's Notes**: Plot thickens! And we're now in Chapter Ten, moving to the eleventh installment! Whoo, I didn't think I would go this far! XD Thanks so much for the reviews, the kudos, and the support! I would probably snuff it out if it weren't for you guys! ::gives everyone hugs and kisses::

I have yet to send you some of my drawings! Please wait for them as I will undoubtedly deliver them to you! I've been busy with a lot of stuff, particularly in deviantart, so I profusely apologize for that! **So to the new reviewers, TELL ME YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESSES! XD**

Believe it or not, I've been reading my reviewer's works and their writing prowess. The problem is that… I HAVEN'T REVIEWED YET! Eep! ::runs away:: Oh please forgive me again! I've been looking for an ample time to log on and review your stories! One thing is for sure: I WON'T ABANDON YOU, GUYS! ::Group hug yet again::

Ehem! **So what's in Chapter Eleven? **Now that Seto is reading Isis' book, what certain revelations will be told? Who is Sekheth and why was he associated with a character in a work of fiction? Will he even believe whatever he would be reading from it? Meanwhile, Atem is sidestepped by Mai, whom the latter offers answers to long-overdue questions. What will the sovereign learn from this encounter? And why the hell is Bakura so obsessed with Atem, so much that he even ordered Marik to steal the painting? Tsk, crazy tomb robber.

That's it! See you in the next chappie! STICK WITH ME, PEOPLE! XD

Oh, and **REVIEWWWW --!!!**

Thanks a lot and Rock On! XD


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